


Father of Courage

by SaltySaph



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Other, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2020-01-12 17:36:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 179,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18451376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltySaph/pseuds/SaltySaph
Summary: When Ganon returns early, Link has the choice of either murdering the woman who would be the Mother of the King of Evil, or hiding her and helping her raise Hyrule's most formidable enemy.





	1. Stage Set

A young boy, now well accustomed to wielding a sword forged for a grown man, let it drop. Its bloodied tip scraped along the stone floor. Gravity pulled at the strips of flesh and ooze that grappled the blade to little avail. The boy stood panting. His muscles burned, his lungs heaved, and his eyes were blurry with water. Terror and shock shook where he thought relief and victory would be. With the fight over, his knees buckled and his arms rattled.

“Link!” The young miss, just a year or two older than he, tore her delicate threading in her dress as she sprinted toward him. “Thank the Goddesses, you're alright! Link you did it! It's over-” she grappled him in her arms and she held him up so he did not fall “-it's finally over.”

The triforce on Gannondorf's hand pulsed with fading strength. As his heartbeat bled out, the light of his power went with it. It took longer, or felt longer, than either of the two would have liked. Finally the power of triforce dulled. The mark on his hand looked no more bright than a scar on his bronzed skin. The two kids stood there, not able to look at the corpse yet not able to look away. The castle guards flooded the stairs, now freed from Evil's spell, and with them they brought the chorus of celebration that the two needed.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The young woman, wearing more regal layers than she would like but significantly less than her mother would insist on, figdited in her seat. She doodled around her notes because she was worried. Her ear was turned to her tutor. He taught with a gentle voice and a thrill for knowledge. It made him easy to listen to and the lessons more prone to stick. As he covered the reign of her great, great, great grandfather and the laws that were passed in those days that led to laws in place now- Zelda kept her eyes on her classmate. Link was no longer allowed to sit near windows, but that did not stop him from staring out into space. She looked at his paper. At least there were  _ some _ notes this time. She glanced at her tutor, mid tangent, and found it a good time to copy the notes she had made so far.

“He will not learn if you keep learning for him, your highness.” The tutor interjected, and then continued his tangent about laws on how the outer gates are to be run. Realizing his wisdom had not stopped Zelda in her efforts, he sighed. “Princess Zelda.”

“The law was passed in 608, not because of what was happening without but the brewing mistrust within.” Zelda recited. Then she looked up. She smiled with reassurance. “I'm listening.”

“You are always listening.” His face fell sweetly. “You do well in a classroom, and though you are only trying to help, he must learn for himself. Do you think you would learn archery as well if he pulled the bowstring for you?”

“Well, sometimes he demonstrates better because he knows what I need to see to understand it.” Zelda defended.

Link took his eyes off the air and smiled at her. Gratitude. “Sorry, professor. In her defense, her handwriting is a lot easier for me to read when I study.”

“See?” Zelda crossed her leg over her knee with pride. “We're a good team. We've even starting sparring as a team in the courtyard classes. We have minimal openings.”

“She almost doesn't step on my feet anymore.” Link smirked. Zelda balled up paper and threw it at him. He caught it, as he always did, and threw it back. She glared at him and he went back to staring into space.

“Yes, yes.” The tutor waved his chalk about. “Two pieces of the same triforce- always keen to remind me. If you two could, somehow, become the same person I have no doubts that there would be no greater warrior, scholar or goof-off-er in all the realm. Thankfully for anyone who has to teach you, you're not. Which means,  _ Link, I know you are still listening _ , that you too have to pay attention.”

Link had learned not to roll his eyes. This was firmly disciplined out of him as bad manners, but the temptation was strong. Instead he blinked, straightened up in his chair, and stared at the board. He squinted. After reading five lines of history, not about combat or exploration, he blinked feverishly to get himself to stay awake.

“You two are the living embodiment of history repeating itself.” The tutor's usual jovial tone sunk into a somber warning. The two students stiffened. “There have been many Zeldas and many Links before you, and few were so fortunate to live a peaceful life in a Hyrule restored. We have you both to thank, but this is not an excuse to have no ambition. You two have the greatest opportunity to do wonderful, lasting acts for Hyrule and all of its people. The future bearers of the triforce can be granted a much easier, stronger life for the work you do  _ today _ .”

Link slouched in his chair. He picked up his pen, tapped it against the paper, massaged his hand, and overall avoided taking actual notes. Zelda handed him her copy. He copied her words onto his page, including the doodles. He found they made his paper happier and easier to stare at.

 

~*~*~*~

 

“Heh,” the guard couldn't hide the smile under his helmet. “It almost feels wrong to have you in a rookie uniform, Sir Link.”

“I worked hard to earn it, sir.” Link winked. He adjusted himself in the uniform, which hadn't been tailored yet. He missed his pajamas. “So, where to? Hyrule Field to slay some dreaded, accursed Keese? Some maleficent Chuchus of the realm?”

“Patrol duty.” The Sargent said flatly. “We are going to each guard tower, in turn, around the lower quarter of the city. We will log the time and the guards positioned at each tower we go to on this log sheet, which they will then sign to affirm that we met them at that location at that time. They will also put us in their log sheet at each tower. If we are the last item on that log sheet, then we will collect the sheet and bring it to the Central Watch for review.”

Link stared at him blankly. The officer handed him the log sheet, cleanly attached to a board with a quill. The officer tapped a clip on his belt, filled with not rupees or deku nuts, but nearly hanging vials of ink. The vials were stopped for the top third of their size with a black sponge, for dabbing the quill against. Three of the four vials had caps on, and the other had it's cap tied onto the side, but hung free. Link blinked.

“Don't worry, once your training for patrol is complete in a fortnight, you'll get your own quill holster.” The Sargent winked back at Link. “Now quick, name all of the watch towers of the Lower Quarter in positional order from the Central Square South to Central Square North.”

 

“Southern Central.”

They walked up to the tower through the marketplace. Many heads turned as they squinted at the trainee dogging the decorated officer. Those with better eyesight stifled a giggle. He awkwardly saluted those with knowing glances. There was a general approval of his learning the proper Watch trade. Shopkeepers gestured about their wares more freely, those with purses of rupees relaxed. It wasn't a reaction Link was expecting.  _ I make people feel safe. _ He allowed himself to smile.  _ I make them safe. _

Guards at the tower's doorway stood and saluted them as they approached. The Sargent and his hero trainee saluted back. Link made the gesture with a bit more confidence this time. Their uniforms were neat, crisp, ironed and some of the guards were decorated. They beamed at those who passed them by into the market. A kid sat inside, calmed from being accidentally separated, waiting for his parents to meet him.

“Well, well,” the Post-Guard nodded in Link's direction. “Soon a full-fledged pacer, huh?”

“He's got a good resume for covering ground.” The three shared a genuine laugh. “Show him where you keep your log sheets.”

They stepped inside and the Sargent noted the condition of the tower, the formality of their uniforms, and those who were on duty. They signed it. The guards logged that the 'pacers' had arrived and made their appraisal. They were still still on the first half of their log sheet. However, the guard pulled two completed sheets from behind the unfinished paged and turned them in.

“It's been a busy day. The Mask Salesman is in town. Folks are going nuts.”

“Well, better a busy report than a bad report. Well, Link. What's the next tower?”

 

“Bombchu Shop.”

The guards were far more relaxed than the ones in Southern Central. One was reprimanded for not having his shirt tucked in, but it didn't go into the report. They turned in their sheet as they added in the last lines. Link tucked it into the board under the sheets from Southern Central.

“I'm tellin' ya, Link.” A guard folded his arms with pride. “This is the best post. If you ever get stuck in a tower, pray to the Goddesses above it's this one.”

Link folded his arms with suspicion.

“One reason; two parts. First, almost nothing happens here. Most shifts are a breeze. When something finally  _ does _ go off? It has to do with the Bombchu shop and that's when things get exciting. Ain't nothin' better.”

“Don't fill his head with laziness, Hanu.” The Sargent frowned deeply. “Next tower, Sir Link.”

 

“Rainring and Korok St.”

“Rainring  _ Avenue _ and Korok St.” The Sargent corrected him. “So long as you are doing records, you must work with accuracy, cleanliness and precision. Shortcuts are fine for personal notes, but when doing logs you need to be clear.”

“There's only one Rainring.” Link pointed out. “Does it matter how wide it is?”

“Yes.” The Sargent snapped. “It encourages shorthand and laziness. Laziness may start simply with leaving out full names of streets, but soon enough it bleeds out into other parts of your records. Tell me, Link. Does the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon matter when baking a cake?”

He relinquished the battle. “Yessir.”

The officer had half a mind to complete his point, but as they approached the tower he thought it best to let it go. There was a bigger fish to fry. The guard was not standing in the doorway. Instead, the light spilled out into the street. The Sargent nodded to Link, and the trainee watched him write it down as a strike. However, he didn't close the point.

“You think there's a good reason not to give him a full strike?” Link spoke softly.

“He deserves the opportunity to explain himself.” The Sargent sighed. “He is a citizen.”

Link nodded. He briefly remembered a long, long section of Zelda's notes about citizen rights. She had added extra doodles to demonstrate some more important points. It was a good system. Link followed in the Sargent's footsteps up to the tower.

Within was mild panic. A disgruntled guard sat in a chair in the middle of the small room. His head rested in a hot cloth in his palm. His teeth were clenched together. Red was seeping through the water of the cloth. The Sargent moved to shove the log sheet at Link, but Link already had his hands occupied with a bottle. He pulled the cork and passed the milk to the guard. Grateful, the guard threw the milk back. The Sargent's shoulders relaxed.

“What happened?” the Sargent pressed.

Another guard came down from the steps to the top of the tower. In his hands he held a first aid kit, extra log sheets from upstairs, and fresh cloth. He gently nudged his coworker's head out of the cloth, cleaned up the blood off his face, tended to the wound and put the new cloth in his hand. “Panic assault.”

The guard focused on cleaning up the mess, only taking the time to gesture into the holding cell of the tower. It was a pit in the floor with a grated-gate over the top. In the stone pit sat a gerudo woman. She was getting on in age and she wore all of her stress on her face. The Sargent snarled under his breath. Link wasn't sure how to feel.

“Panic Assault?” The Sargent's tone stressed his tension. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“She was running in the street.” The nurturing guard explained. He took the bloody cloth to the water basin to wash it. “Running from someone we suspect. Anyway, Jann grabbed her to bring her into the tower for questioning and she raised her hand in self-defense. I think she was afraid we had other intentions.”

“Alright. I'll send a retrieval team out to the tower.” the Sargent sighed. “Can you hold her for an hour until they arrive to take her in?”

“Honestly, sir, I don't think that's necessary.” The officer finally looked up at them. He was young. “Once she realized she hit a Watchman she dropped to the ground and balled up to defend herself. I think after some time in the cell I can let her go. Just give her time to calm down, you know?”

“I understand.” The Sargent straightened his shoulders. “Which is why we need to take her in and get a formal report. I take it she hasn't said anything since the incident?”

“No. I'm not sure she speaks Hylian.”

“All the more reason to take her in. If she needs help, then we need a formal report to work with.”

“With all due respect sir, I'm afraid that will make her situation worse.”

“Fear is rational until we act on it alone.”

The Sargent and the officer sat down at the table to make reports. It was going to be a long one, and both officers had their quill-holsters at the ready. They discussed wording, consistency, accuracy. Link found himself sitting beside the wounded guard. It bothered him, since he couldn't sit still looking at the sloppy job the other guard had pulled together. Link undid the bandages and took to cleaning the wound.

“Hey, hero.” The wounded guard groaned. “Tell me the truth, is it bad?”

“No.”

“...Yeah, alright. I bet you've bandaged up a lot worse, huh?”

Link paused. He finished up the bandages. The guard's uncovered eye drifted to Link's hand. Link sat back down. “I never bothered to bandage up the bad ones.”

The two left the conversation at that.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Link found Zelda curled up with a newspaper in the study. She sipped at tea by firelight. The fireplace roared dangerously behind the cast-iron guarding. He knocked on the door frame for permission to enter into her reading trance. She glanced up.

“How are you already back into your sleepwear?” she laughed. She folded up the paper and sat up in the armchair so that her dress did not drape in every direction. “You were on patrol not an hour ago.”

“I like comfort.” he said. When her facial expression didn't change, he shrugged. “What?”

She frowned. “You're focusing on the dark years again?”

He couldn't shrug off her question. He collapsed into the armchair opposite her. Perhaps avoidance would get him out of addressing the ugly cloud of thoughts. “I dunno how, but even after crossing all this ground in the palace all these years did not prepare me for how sore my feet are from patrol. I've grown  _ domestic, _ Zelda. This is your fault.”

“I'm terribly sorry.” She smirked. “I'll tell father to let you hunt your own dinner for the night.”

His glare snapped up. “Har har.”

Her expression softened and he found himself trapped, his eyes meeting hers. Her triforce shone softly. She stared right through his defenses and into his heart. He stared back. Her eyes didn't read with all of her secrets. He blinked her off. It was too late to keep her from prying but it at least got her to stop.

“I'm sorry.” She meant it.

“There's nothing-”

“I wish that we got to grow up first, too.”

Nothing else needed to be said after that, so instead she read to him the gossip from the paper. Link fell asleep in the chair nigh immediately after. He woke hours later with the fire snuffed out, her blanket thrown over him, and a servant of the palace encouraging him to find a proper bed to sleep in.

 

~*~*~*~

 

_ Hyrule Castle stood on a hill where the grass was green and the stones sang the wisdom of the sages. One by one, the stones changed their song. The major key escalated to its minor, and their words turned to warning. Their wisdom turned to the reciting of legend, of turning seasons. They sang that spring comes for us all when the rest ends. The grass curled into weeds, grew tall stalks and lashed out with teeth of thorns. _

_ No matter how many of them Link slew, their teeth of thorns would stay with him. He could feel the thorns following him, singing songs of spring in ominous tones. They sang that spring for one is autumn for another. Summer for one is Winter for another. Thorns peeled into more stalks for him to slay. They sang of beginnings, endings and omens. They sang that feast for one is famine for another. _

_ Link drew his sword. _

_ Link drew his sword. _

_ Link drew his sword. _

_ Every time he did so his hand was different. Every time he did so, the sword aged. His shield became more battered with every stroke of his own blade against the enemy. The sword was heavier than ever. The sword fit perfectly in his grown hand. The blade was dull, but the glow on his hand was brighter than ever. The glow reduced to one corner, the corner of courage, and then ticked to wisdom. Then it ticked to power. Courage, Wisdom, Power, over and over until Link was dizzy. Link drew his sword but instead it was a book about history and on every page was the face of a gerudo woman in utter terror. _

 

Link threw the covers off him and walked to the door. The light of the hall splashed against his face and his heart slowed down. He turned his head to see if any servants had seen him. No servant walked the floor. Instead, Zelda and Impa stood at his door. His stomach turned.

 

~*~*~*~

 

He met the Sargent at the stable. He did not wear his training armour. He wore a simple green outfit that Impa brought to him. It felt like it fit better than any other clothes tailored for him, and yet he hated it. The Sargent didn't give him orders. Instead, he handed him the reigns to the loyal Clydesdale that Link loved. He looked into her eyes. They were steeled for the night. She needed no blinders. Link did not feel comforted. He leaped into the saddle and patted the side of her neck. His old reflexes waited just below the surface. He could feel his bowstring, the hilt of his sword. War brewed in his blood and in him it turned to frustration, anger.

“Before she could give her statement, one of the physicians saw to her.” The Sargent spoke with great unease. “She is with child and we suspect that's why she ran. She knows something about her child.”

“Or maybe she just doesn't want to raise another gerudo daughter in the capitol of Hylia.” Link snapped. The Sargent looked down. They both wished that was it. Link twisted the reigns in his fist. He looked to the Sargent He remembered that this was his superior officer. “My apologies, sir.”

“Save it for when we have her safely in custody.”

 

The towers doubled their guard. Streets were quiet, if not empty. Gerudo hid in basements, but the soldiers made their way through the city's central out of the gates. Intel was better than it had been when this first started. Some of the mounted soldiers flanked the inner and outer paths of the gate. Others closed off quarters of the city. The majority split off into search parties, assigned to regions of Hyrule Field. Sir Link, however, was not given orders. Instead, he was given freedom from rank. “Do what you do best, hero.”

He split from the group. In his quiver were five light arrows from Zelda. On his ankle was a charm that she wore when they were children, what assured her that he would be safe while she could not watch over him. It was girly, and it was beaten and worn, and so he wore it with pride. He never studied the arcane arts well, not spells without instant results- but he knew arcane items. It wasn't the items with reverence or meaning made into them. It was the items with history and sentiment that were the most powerful, and with this anklet he knew himself to be well protected from Gannon's ire. Nayru's love was upon him.

Stalchildren rose up out of the soil and swiped at Epona's hooves. She crushed them with her mighty strikes against the earth. An anxious trot broke into a determined canter. His hand rang with light. Her instinct flared. There were no footprints to follow, but they knew which way to go. The two dusted the soldiers who could not ride with their fluidity. The soldiers trusted him, and let Link ride on ahead. With any luck, the job would be done before they arrived.

Link rode up to shards of stone in the field. Dust still hung in the air. Epona slowed enough for him to slide off her saddle and drop to the ground. He looked about. No one was close. In the center of the debris was a hole in the earth. He could jump in, as he had done so many times as a child. Though, he realized, she would be waiting for him. She would be afraid.  _ I should wait for reinforcements. _

He didn't.

He leaped into the soft-soil cavern. Within, fronds grew like weeds and pools of stale rain attracted waterbugs. The cavern was lit with fireflies, trapped in a bottle. The bottle sat in a shallow pool of water, and the light refracted through the water, off the walls and brighter than the bugs could do on their own. Link admired the innovation. In the back of the cavern stood a Sheikah Stone. It's eye ever open, but its words were stone silent. The shadow on the wall reached back and over. Link thought to draw his sword. He looked at his hand first. It was the same hand. He decided not to.

He approached the shadow, reached out his hand, and caught the wild swing of the pike. The woman on the butt of the spear stared at him like one would see Gannon. Her eyes narrowed into righteous fury. “You, undead demon who serves the locust, I will not fall to you without a fight.”

Link did not have an answer prepared. Instead, honesty came out. “You speak Hylian?”

“Of course I do.” She spat. He wiped his face. “I was born in this crumbling city. I was raised in your gutters and under your seething, lecherous glances.”

Link let go up the spear and put up his hands. “May I touch you?”

She narrowed her eyes and lowered her spear. “ _ Excuse me? _ ”

He turned his left hand so that she could see the soft glow of the triforce. He looked to her womb, which was barely large enough to sustain a gourd, much less a person. “If you do carry the... next bearer, my piece will react. If it doesn't, then we can take you back to the city and get you help.”

Her knuckles tightened against the wood of the spear. “And if it does?”

He pursed his lips together. “I... I don't know. Princess Zelda is the one who plans. I just go.”

The gerudo woman didn't expect his cander. They stood still, him with his hands empty and open, and she with a spear to his gut. They stood in silent firefly light until Epona fussed up above. She stomped at the ground with one hoof, quietly, anxiously. The gerudo mother eased her grip on the spear. Link lowered his left hand, slowly and not taking his eyes off the spear, until his palm rested over her stomach. There was a flicker, a pulse, and then a steady, brighter glow. As slowly as he put the hand down, he put his hand back up. Silence was better than speech. He took a deep breath.

“They will find you here.” He cursed himself. Fear crawled through his veins and yet he could see his path clearly.

“I will not let you murder my son.” She pushed the spear into his clothes so that its tip locked into the chainmail underneath. “I will kill you over, and over, and over again until my son is strong enough to pick up the sword and send you to the Goddesses.”

He closed his eyes.  _ I can't do this. Not like this.  _ He dropped his hands and she stepped backwards. Instead of grabbing his sword like she expected, instead he offered her his hand. “I said they will find you here. I know of only one place in all of Hyrule that they cannot follow. We will go there, and then we will figure this out. I promise I will take you there safely.”

A tear, no- two, fell down her face. “What?”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Link thought he would have to teach her how to ride a horse, as she had likely never seen one up close, but apparently it was in her blood. It was her culture, she said, to ride horses under the blazing sun when the sand is a sea of blinding lights. She told him that her mother had told her stories of their homeland every moment alone they had. Link told her that the Sheika had told him stories of Hylian culture once he moved into the castle, but they were never as passionate or vibrant as the stories she told him now by starlight. The whole ride across the field his hand glowed. Sometimes, when he glanced at her, he could have sworn that he saw the glow shine through her from within. They stopped at the edge of the wood. Morning was still hours ahead.

“Do you feel tired?”

“We need to get there.” She said.

“Where we are going, until we get there, you cannot sleep.” He said sternly. “If you fall asleep here, you will die, and you will never rest.”

“Like you.”

“Like worse.”

She didn't correct his grammar. “I'll be alright.”

“Take my hand.” She did. He drew his sword and held it up to the wood. The wood remembered him. “Do not let go. If we get separated, stay where you are and stay awake. Let me find you. Epona, go to Zora. Wait there.”

The horse reared gently and turned away. The gerudo furrowed her brow. “She knows your speech?”

Link smiled. “She's a special horse.”

“I see that.”

The wood engulfed them when they stepped inside. They stepped through shadows of the large leaves and mushrooms of towering trees, and emerged from a light that shone like daylight in a cellar. She heard music on instruments that no Hylian or Gerudo could play. She felt the chittering of judgement and predatory salivation. She clutched Link's hand, and soothingly, he gently squeezed it back. “Yeah, sorry. This place is always creepy. Step lively.”

He took turns with pivots, sometimes yanking her shoulders. He looked at landmarks she could barely distinguish. His eyes were wild, taking in every branch, every arching bow, every odd stone and the natural shape of the water's banks. She did not let go of his hand. She did not dare. She had heard legends of the wood that devours the living. She had seen a painting of the souls who become like the trees, ever living, never sleeping, trapped and yet right at home. She did not feel that she would ever feel at home in a place where silt squished between her toes like slime.

“Were we here before?”

“Yes.” He said.

“Are we lost?”

“No.”

“You expect me to believe we have to go through the wood in the same places, in order to get to a different place deeper within?”

“Yes.”

“That is delusional.”

“Yes. That's why people get lost.”

That, at least, made sense.

Her strength waned. She realized this was partially because her anger and fear were weakening. She wasn't sure if it was the enchantment of the wood, or finally having someone to aid her that made her will waver. She feared the former more, and so steeled herself against sleep. She ignored her sore feet against the twigs and hard grasses. She ignored the soreness in her legs. She did her best to ignore the sickness she felt from carrying a child. That was much harder.

“Just a little bit further.” He reassured. It helped.

Seven turns, wild pivoting and double checking of indescribable landmarks led them deeper into a shadow. She closed her eyes. On the other side was a soft light, and they walked out of the Lost Woods into a narrow meadow. In the meadow sat a temple in severe decay. Vines overtook it, structures ground against structure, wailing for collapse. In all of its demise, it still provided many nooks and crannies where for now the stone was stable.

“What... temple is this?”

“This is the ancient Temple of Time.” Link spoke softly. Reverence commanded his voice. “Long ago, the Hylian people came out into the woods because they believed Time to be naturally a part of nature and its power. When the people eventually understood Time as a modern method of measurement, they rebuilt the temple in the Capitol. Now a small shrine sits in every city.”

“I see.” she found herself yawning. “Is it still dangerous to sleep?”

“No, thankfully.” Link looked about the place, as if looking for tools, or a hidden stash of chocolates. “This place is sacred. The Lost Woods has no power here. Sit, wherever you can. I will haste to make camp.”

She found a large marble slap as a makeshift couch and sat on it. She rest her hand over her womb. Lost, afraid, and quite possibly facing a death sentence in the solitude of the devouring wood, she wept. The weeping did not finish with her until Link already had a fire going and was penning a letter. She laid down in the thick, overgrown grass on the opposite side of his fire. He did not look up. He wrote furiously, but also with a sense that it was futile. She watched for a little while, and then drifted off to sleep.

 

~*~*~*~

 

The forest fairy hovered in Zelda's window. She bolted across her room from her desk, where she was holding a letter she did not know how to send. She cracked open her window and the fairy drifted in on the morning breeze. It carried a small piece of fabric with Link's hasty scrawl. She put out her hand for the fairy to rest in. She fanned her face to calm her soul. It didn't help.

 

_ Zelda, _

_ There are faries that sometimes gather in the evening in the courtyard. I suggest catching some to keep correspondence. Please take notes for me. While I'm gone, try sparring with Keylia. She has a strong sense of making most of openings and she will be a good combat strategy to learn how to defend against. _

_ Trust your instincts. If you are unsure, ask Impa. Second guessing your own wisdom has been your greatest downfall. For now, I must trust in mine. I have courage, but hopefully your common sense has rubbed off on me. I am in no mortal peril. We are stronger now than we were before, smarter and more importantly I can actually hold the sword properly. _

_ Please let the fairy rest if you send a letter. It is a long way. _

_ Link _

 

Zelda read it three times before letting her hand drop. Impa plucked the letter from her loose grasp and read it for herself. Zelda crossed back to her desk, took the pins out of the cushion and laid the fairy down onto it. The small forest fairy was already asleep.

“He's right.” Impa spoke softly. Zelda didn't respond. “I will inform the masters about Keylia.”

Zelda found herself cross. She snatched up the letter she wrote, tore it to shreds and flung them into the wastebasket. She pulled at her hair. “Why did he  _ do this _ ?”

“Exclude you?” Impa cut to the point. “Because he knows that I would betray both your wishes and his should I feel it necessary for the safety of the kingdom.”

“Which means he is doing something  _ foolish _ .” Zelda spat.

“Or risky.” Impa found herself smiling, just a tad. “You both had nightmares the night the woman escaped. Now he is missing, presumably hiding the woman from us. He knows that I would think it too much of a risk to do what he is doing. He has grown since he was a boy. He's become quite clever.”

“He's always been clever.” Her tone fell into a lost, sullen wind. “That's how he won.”

“Exactly. He defied expectations.”

Zelda finally looked away from the surface of her desk. She squinted at her own thoughts and turned to Impa. In preparation of a revelation, she sat herself into her chair. She thought a moment. “What are you implying?”

“Well, Princess, what is he expected to do?”

“. . . Destroy Gannon. Again.” Zelda's words betrayed herself. The thought of him having to fight in blood and sweat made her uneasy. She still remembered holding him up, keeping him from collapsing after the victory. “That's what he does. That is his part in the cycle.”

Yet, instead he was hiding. The woman suspected to be the next bearer's mother was hiding, with him. Zelda had thought that Link was in peril, and so had written a letter saying that he would be rescued- not abandoned. She was glad she tore up the letter. No pregnant woman would be able to hold Link, not with his experience. She could not stop him, not while he was with the power of the Triforce of Courage. Link was protecting her. Link was hiding her. Link was protecting the baby. Zelda's face twisted in confusion.

“When Link fought Gannondorf those eleven-”

“Twelve.” Zelda corrected.

“-twelve, years ago, Gannondorf was a grown man. He was hurting many people. He was sending armies against our gates and threatening your life. Link's choice was clear. Yet now, the holder of the Triforce of Power is not yet born.”

“He could end this before it starts!” Zelda exclaimed.

“Yes he can.” Impa put some stern in her voice. Zelda looked up, her lost and frustrated expression painted all over her posture. “And he is a clever man who knows Death better than anyone. Zelda, do you know where he would hide them?”

She paused. She didn't need to think about it. “Yes.”

Impa crossed the room to her chair and rest a hand on Zelda's shoulder. Zelda stared at the mark on her hand. The triforce reflected the light coming through her window. Impa knelt down beside the distraught princess and took the marked hand in her own. “Do you think we should pursue them?”

The triforce glimmered as thoughts raced through Zelda's mind. A single thought stood out. It wasn't what she wanted. It was not what history foretold, and it was not going to be approved by anyone. Zelda closed her hand around Impa's.

“No. We're going to trust him.”

“Then in Nayru's Wisdom through you, I will not pursue him.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Squirrels cooked on the fire. The woman watched them half-heartedly. She could mostly keep an eye on them with her nose. She would smell when they were done- now that the scent of burnt fur had faded. Instead, her eyes were on the Hero. Donned with gloves from deep within a temple, he was moving the crumpled structures of the eroded temple of time into a fair structure. Though it was quite apparent that he had never studied architecture, he wasn't doing too poorly. He crushed the dust from the edges to make smoother sides on the slabs. He traced rough rectangles with his sword, then punched out the stone to make windows. She did not bother calling out to him when the squirrels finished cooking. It appeared he was too lost in his project to hear it.

She noted that he was only using slabs that had fallen outside the temple. He outright refused to cross the threshold, even though the walls had somewhat collapsed around the doorframe. He made sure he was not considered inside the temple. When he finally joined her at the fire, she took his hand in hers and massaged it.

“Does the temple still have power?” She spoke softly, as if the temple could wake up.

“As it ages, it looses physical strength.” He bit through a small bone of the squirrel. It took some time for him to pluck it from the meat without spearing the roof of his mouth. “But it also gains spiritual strength with every passing Solstace. The monsters within are likely still guarding its spirit.”

She furrowed her brow. “Is it safe to be here?”

“It's... safer.” He didn't want to lie. “The monsters will not come out of the temple, so long as we don't go in and mess with it. Monsters almost never leave their temples. They are there to test, to guard, to protect and to judge. They look after the temple and the temple looks after them.”

“And what if they do?”

“Then I will slay them.” Link said plainly. If training for the Watch, and the Royal Guard has been any education, it was to maintain composure. So long as he was calm, assured and unafraid, she would be. At least, that was the principle. Her shoulders were still stiff but at least she was eating. “So... I guess the obvious rules are not to go into the Lost Woods, and not to go into the Temple of Time.”

“So I am a prisoner here.” She sighed. She looked about the glade. Sun shone through the trees. Before Link had started moving temple walls, the birds were singing in serenity. He was building them a house of sorts. He could get for them whatever they needed from the wood, and protect them. “It could be a worse prison, in fairness. At least here it appears that peace is attainable.”

Link smiled with assurance. It was a bit forced but the Gerudo woman appreciated the gesture. He managed to laugh. He plucked strands of meat from between the small bones. “Reminds me of the time when I got arrested. I was in a holding cell for a week.”

The gerudo leaned back with surprise. “What on earth did you do to get  _ you of all people _ arrested?!”

“Well, as a kid I would kinda just. Scavenge?” He kept his eye on his squirrel bones but his vision was elsewhere. “And... sometimes I would scavenge people's homes? So after I moved into the palace, some of the people remembered that and... well let's just say I got off super easy. But being a kid stuck for a  _ week _ in a dungeon when I could barely sit still in a classroom? Oh yeah. I learned not to steal so often.”

“So often.”

“I mean, so long as I give it back it's borrowing not stealing.”

A pleasant, easy silence fell between the gaps of the pops of the fire. She rest her hand on her womb. Joy, fear, uncertainty, relief to not be in the capitol- they all buzzed about her fighting for attention. She watched him gather up the bare bones of the squirrels and toss them into the fire. They fizzled and flickered, and the flames- instead of liking the bones rolled over them. They balled up and floated on the heat. The fire on the bones carved through it until there was caught of the bones but ash, and then a few small tiny orbs of light blinked out of existence. The Gerudo woman stared intently.

“Was.... that?”

“Yep.” Link nodded. “All faries are born from things returning to the Earth. It's not so much the soul of the animal, but... it's easier to think of them that way. Plants do it too. That's why there are so many faries in the Lost Woods.”

Such a wonderful moment ended on such a sullen note. “My name is Loamol.”

Link nodded and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I'm Link.”

She chuckled, and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

More silence filled the gaps.

“So. Hero of Hyrule, He Who Marches with Death Close Behind, Sir Link.” She said. He looked to the grass. “What is it that you plan to do with me and my son?”

He looked at her. He looked at her womb- but just a glance. “I, uh. I guess. Just... hide you here until I have a better plan.”

“So you intend to trap yourself here, with one who is sworn to be your mortal enemy, one who will one day remember you as the death of his people?”

Link thought for a moment. He thought about what it would mean to have a child who could truly kill him, around all the time. He thought about what it could mean for Gannondorf to have such easy access to such a great power protected within the temple. His stomach knotted and he found himself curling into a ball.

“He's just a kid.” Link muttered. “My job isn't just...  _ kill Gannondorf. _ It's to protect Hyrule. I did what I had to do to protect my people.”

“And your princess.”

“Yes, and my princess.” Link looked into Loamol's eyes. The irises reflected the dance of the flames, of the fairies, and yet stood perfectly still. “So until he threatens Hyrule, he is not my enemy and I am not his.”

The gerudo leaned back. Her back was sore and the ground supported it. “So you truly mean it. Sir Link, knighted as a child by the Hylian Court, do you swear to protect my son so long as he does not harm your people? Do you swear to help me raise this child to be a King, not as a predator of Hyrule, but as a neighboring Kingdom from which borders are respected and merchants aspire to cross?”

Link stood up. He faced her. He drew his sword and she tensed with every muscle of her body. He held it in his hands and he made a choice. He knelt before her and offered up his blade as a sign of formality- as he had been taught. “I solemnly swear to raise this child to be a Benevolent, Neighboring King.”

Loamol rested her hand on his face. His composure trembled. “Then truly history can change. For the first time, Gannondorf, King of the Gerudo, will have someone he can call a father.”

Link suddenly realized that he knew nothing about raising children.

 

~*~*~*~

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm super excited about this piece, and the ideas it allows me to explore in the franchise. I'll be updating weekly!
> 
> THINGS ABOUT ZELDA I'M USING FOR CONTEXT:
> 
> The Legend:  
> Every hundred years, the displaced, all-female race of Gerudo have a son. His name is Gannondorf, and he is their King. He has come to bring Hyrule to its knees with monsters and war. He holds one of the Goddess' Triforce pieces of Power. However, Hyrule is not without defense! The last two pieces of the Triforce belong to Princess Zelda with Wisdom, and the Hero of the People, Link of Courage! Together they will stop Gannondorf and seal him away! At least, that's the story Hylians are told...
> 
> The Triforce of Power is said to hold great magical power.  
> Triforce of Wisdom gives insight and knowledge through visions and dreams.  
> The Triforce of Courage... well, every time the bearer dies, they come back. They come back remembering how they died. 
> 
> Now, the Legend of Zelda series has a thing with Timelines. I personally have trouble making sense of it, so I am doing my best to ignore it. Hyrule's geography changes drastically rather easily, so I'm not gonna stress it.
> 
> Edit: It appears I have confused the Triforce with the Avatar State. It's fine.


	2. 02 Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zelda deals with the budding consequences of Link's decision, and so does Link.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last scene is of childbirth, but aside from blood, I refrained from much description.

Link

I am prepared to be cross with you, but for the sake of the realm I will tame my temper. Impa has taken a liking to your advice and already I have seen the physician three times this week from sparring. Here are your notes from Seventh Era History, as well as Arithmetic. I'd send you the literature notes, but the fairies were having a hard time carrying the book. 

I thought you would be reassured to know that Epona has been recovered. We found her happily munching on the reeds by the Zora River. She likes how they whistle when she huffs through them, and now she refuses to stop, or let us take the reeds. Still somehow your horse is a better flute-player than I ever was as a child and frankly I'm not sure how I feel about that. 

Impa worries. She has been going out at dusk to 'get some fresh air' as it were. I would be thrice the liar if I said I did not worry, too. Perhaps it is silly to bid you caution, but be careful all the same. Come home when you can. 

Zelda

 

The woman leaned against the log with a grimace. Link did not know how to soothe her. He had half a mind to ask in his next letter. He rubbed his eyes. Impa was looking for them at Dusk? If anyone in the realm could find them, could even reach them, it was likely Impa. Link tucked his class notes into a fraying cut of bark. 

“Will you be alright for a few moments?”

“Going into the wood?” She whispered. 

Link nodded, strung his bow and stood up. Loamol answered his question in kind. Her nods were brief, but energetic. He made a mental list of the herbs in the wood that could soothe pain. He wasn't sure which ones were okay for a woman with child to take, and which could possibly poison them both. He decided to return with a handful of things. That was the best way to go. Let her sort them out with her own knowledge.

“Handful of herbs, bagful of toadstools.” He chanted under his breath. She didn't interrupt him. “I'll be back in the hour.”

Left at the bow that looks like a bird. Left at the stone of the scratches. Right at the woodpecker that never wakes. Straight at the shoe of a child who fell asleep. Touch nothing that need not be touched. March on. Only hunt when you know where you are. Respect the fairies that fly. Respect the bones that birth them. Link kept moving. Right at the skipping stones that do not sink. Take a deep breath and...

He stepped out from the Lost Woods into the arching trees of Hyrule Field. Roots gave way to rich grass, and the twisting trunks straightened into something more appropriate for a painter's eye. Link glanced about the opening of his fortress and was not disappointed.

Epona stood just within the path's entrance. In her mouth were the reeds of the Zora River, and on her back were packs and packs of things the fairies could not hope to carry. Link threw his arms around his horse and sung her praises. Such a strong horse, such a noble steed, such a valiant and beautiful mare beyond compare. Epona knew every word and she nestled him close. 

“She said you would be hiding here.” 

Link's nerves crunched and wrinkled all the way up from the backs of his knees to the nape of his neck. Epona consoled him. Link forced his composure and turned to face her.

“It is good to see you, Impa. Truly.”

“Hm.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well if you have learned nothing else at the palace, at least we got some manners into you.”

Link afforded a smirk. “I also learned to throw a man over my shoulder. That was pretty great.”

Impa raised an eyebrow, and then gave in. She held open her arms and Link strode into them. Their embrace was short, but lung-crushing. She put a hand on his shoulder. She took a good look at him. 

“There is no shame in your posture.” Impa nearly purred with pride. “Good. At least I know that your madness is not derived of fear.”

Link's eyes fell. “I'm not mad.”

She raised an eyebrow. 

“What I mean is...” Link took a deep breath, looked Impa in the eye, and recited his tutor. “The future bearers of the triforce can be granted a much easier, stronger life for the work we do today. He is the next bearer. I can either make the situation worse by doing what I'm told, or I can try to make at least one era of our history a little less bloody by...”

“Raising a child.”

“Yeah.”

“You may be of age, Link, but you are far from a parent.”

He pursed his lips. “Yeah. I know. Still have to try. The kid deserves that much.”

“Hm.” She smiled. “At least you are off to a good start.” 

She lifted a pack off of Epona and helped strap it onto Link. One pack at a time they untied from the horse and crammed it onto Link. They tied packs to packs, until he looked like a merchant strolling as bait. He felt as a merchant who was strolling as bait. Overburdened and wishing he had brought his gloves, Link huffed and readjusted under the weight. As she loaded each pack on, she briefly explained what was in it. There were proper medications, there were cloths and sheets, pillows and foods. They had swept his room for much of his old equipment. There was the literary book he was meant to read. There was also a book on delivering an infant. 

“Can you still get through the Wood this way?”

Link nodded. Impa rested his face in her hand. She pulled his cap forward and adjusted the hair out of his face. Assured Link would be alright, she mounted Epona and she rode off toward the Zora Domain. Link took a breath, huffed up, and marched back into the Lost Wood. Now, left at the skipping stones that do not sink...

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Zelda stood at the front of her father's council room. Impa stood behind her at a respectful, aloof distance. The council was furious, Zelda resolute, and her parents were emotionally exhausted. The Princess stood with her straightest shoulders and most upright posture, all supporting a tight-lipped and defiant glare. One of the council members stood. 

“If Link has truly absconded with the mother of evil, then he has defected, and it is clear that he has betrayed us.” The councilman lashed his tongue around the words. “He commits treason.”

“Zelda,” her mother pleaded. “If we cannot find him we cannot bring him home. All of this can be settled in court, and have this be decided by law.”

There was a soft, obligatory hear hear about the room. Zelda breathed in softly. She counted to ten in her thoughts. Impa crossed her arms. The Princess lifted her chin and began her speech.

“When I was but a young child, you all insisted that I fufill my part in the prophecy.” Zelda announced. No one was amused by her play at authority. “You lead me by legend, lore and expectation alone to act, based on the mark of my hand. Worse still, you expected Link, a boy younger than I, to perform single and mortal combat with a grown man by which you yourselves fear for the cause of the same legend and same mark! My own discomfort aside, when it was finished he could barely stand. It took him weeks to recover from the injuries he suffered. Now, you demand us do it again?”

“We don't exepct you to fully appreciate your role in history,” the standing councilman spoke with ice on this teeth and snide flickers of his tongue. “but the trouble we face now is a direct result of Link not completing his task the first time. Had he sealed Gannon away in the Master Sword and carried it to the Temple of Time, which is just outside the palace in the Central Square, we would not be facing this crisis twelve years later. How can we allow you to handle this in such a delicate age of peace when you could not do it with all of our support then?”

“Link was dying.” Zelda snapped.

“Zelda.” Her father corrected her tone. “I understand that when you were young you were frightened for him, but the Triforce of Power had faded. It is possible that Link would have awoken again just as he always does. Between Link's lack of strength and your lack of reason, we are now faced with an equal threat in our near future. We need to know where Link is hiding the woman. We cannot afford failure this time.”

Zelda stood silent. When she was younger this would move her to tears. She hated this. She was not a person with a gift in this room. She was a doll, pulled by the strings of stories that had no evidence. Her alleged memories of her past incarnations were always fuzzy, incomplete, like the memories of a story imagined when told many times. She prayed to the goddesses that Link was doing the right thing. 

“No.” She announced. Her defiance echoed off the walls. “As the Bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom, I uphold my duty of protecting and providing for the Bearer of the Triforce of Courage. My wisdom serves to guide his actions to the peace for our realm. I will not have my duty interpreted for me any longer.”

The council broke into uproar. In her parents, she saw worry. To her surprise, she also saw in them pride, and hope. It would be half an hour's time before the council was quiet again, but by then Zelda had been sent away. Impa walked closely with her. 

“You may have new enemies today.” Impa said this softly. 

Zelda afforded a cruel chuckle. “I wonder if they'll imprison me in crystal.”

 

~*~*~*~*~

  
  


Relief and joy poured out of Link. Zelda had thought of most everything. She had sent his hookshot, the box of trinkets he made from 'borrowed' silverware, and- “Ohhh, Zelda.”

Loamol leaned over the pack in his hands. “Is something wrong?”

Link shook his head with a beaming grin. He held up in his hands his pajamas. They were silk, a dark silver with rich green threading. On the chest was the royal crest of the Hylian Royal House, and 'Sir Link, Knight of the Realm' written underneath. “She trusts us.”

The woman knitted her brow together in confusion. “That is a logical leap that requires context.” 

Link shuffled out of his armoured tunic, right where he sat in the dirt, and slipped into his pajama top. He buttoned up the front, leaving the top two undone. “She wants me to be comfortable. She wouldn't do that if she wasn't going to protect us.” 

They pawed through the care packages that Zelda had sent by horseback. They found gardening tools, which Link hadn't even thought to ask for. They found a few casual outfits for Loamol, and even a dress that was simple yet elegant. They were both relieved to find herbs and medicines for soothing Loamol's pregnancy, and cloth for bedding, cleaning, washing. There were seeds from the garden and a quaint iron cookset. 

“Your beloved has sent us house-warming gifts.” Loamol chuckled. She watched as the young man excitedly unpacked the bags out onto the grass. “She must be eager to see you return home.”

Link looked up. He wasn't sure how to take in the statement. The latter was definitely fact, though. He glanced at the notes she sent him. There were more doodles in the margins than her standard fare. They crammed into the body of the page, and some even drifted off the edge. Zelda was worried for them both. Helpful things, pleasant things, were now scattered in every direction. 

“Planting a garden is a good idea.” Loamol encouraged. She eased herself onto her feet and crossed to where the gardening tools lay. “Sadly I grew up in the city. I know nothing about gardening. I'm hoping you have a better idea?”

Link beamed. “Zelda loved getting her dresses dirty, and the only way that we'd be allowed to roll around in the dirt was to learn gardening. It worked out rather well, actually. I was thinking of taking samplings from the Lost Wood, but a lot of these are easier to start a garden with.”

The woman stared at the temple. Link followed her gaze, but didn't see her train of thought there. She caught a glance at the blank expression on his face. She gestured politely to the temple and its power within. “Will our garden grow here? Or, more directly- will the Temple influence us?”

Link scooped up the hand-hoe and stood to his feet. “The grass grows. The trees grow. Our food will grow.”

They drew up the space for the garden, tracing its borders with the tools. Loamol followed his lead, helping him map out spacing for each seedling. They overturned the grass for the soil and broke up the roots. They didn’t get far in gardening before Loamol needed to rest. Link took in their camp. They had a fire, and they had a garden, but sleeping in the tall grass was not ideal. Dew soaked their clothes in the morning and the stones in the soil provided little comfort. They needed a proper place to rest, and he knew she craved some privacy. He marched back to the mound of gifts from Zelda. It took some finding, especially since they were worn with use, but gloves that he could barely manage as a child fit him…somewhat better as an adult. They were still big on him, the edges of the glove’s fingers sagging and flopping around his own. 

Link walked to a marble slab near the fire, crouched down, dug his fingers into the dirt under the stone and lifted. The gloves took a second to remember their wearer- and then shrunk around his hands. The mark of the Triforce on his hand glowed underneath the glove and with its authority, the gloves submitted to Link’s will. Link took a deep breath. Lifting with his legs, he picked up the marble slab and stood it on its end a few feet from the fireplace. It stood taller than he once he had it settled, and twice a long as Epona. Link nodded to himself. He could do something with this. He stacked for her a small house of marble, while giving Loamol directions on how to build the garden. 

Within the one-room shelter he made for her a hammok from the fabrics, which hung from thick boughs of the trees on all four corners so that it did not slip or rock and she settled into it. When she could no longer garden, they ate, rested, and he helped her into her new space. She cradled his face in her hand. She quickly dropped off to sleep. As evening fell, he returned outside to stoke a small fire. He quietly planned himself a shelter with the marble rubble that was left over. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Impa escorted her through the marketplace, much as one escorts a dog through a park that the dog knows better than the walker. Zelda fussed with her hood. It was messing with her hair so that it frizzed into her face, tickled her nose and sometimes wound up in her mouth. She loved how hoods looked, hated how her hair hated them. She meandered to a stall for rocksalts. As noon neared, their stock was running low. Most of their salts were either hardened large bits or pale crumbles. Zelda chose a larger chunk, nudged Impa to pay for it, and found something else to fixate on. Impa watched as Zelda watched the cobbles and pricked her ears. 

They’ve been interrogating Gerudo since the chase. The women are all playing dumb. I don’t know why they don’t confess.

Do you think he killed her? I mean, it would do the job.

They’re probably hiding under our noses right here in the city! 

They said the princess has fallen ill, but I don’t believe it.

If he had done what he was supposed to do to begin with, we wouldn’t be here. This was their plan all along.

I knew we shouldn’t trust people with power. 

A young hylian, just older than herself Zelda figured, borrowed a crate from a vendor. He carefully poised himself on the edges of the box so it would not collapse. He looked a little… compromised, probably just enough drinks to be bold. Most folks ignored him, as one does in a busy marketplace. It took him a moment to speak. Impa pulled Zelda back from the current toward the wall. They waited for him to start his speech. When he felt he had enough irritated glances collected he started.

“You know what?” he shouted. No one answered him, so he continued. “We’re probably right. I think the princess and the hero messed up. They… didn’t do their jobs. They have one job, to protect us from Gannon, and they didn’t get it right the first time and they ain’t doing it now.”

He now had plenty of attention. Children were being dragged away. Some folks found something to lean on. This should be good. There were murmurs, private conversations and some hear hear’s in the crowd. Merchants took advantage of the cluster to sell to whomever blocked their stall. Zelda frowned. Impa pulled the princess’ hood further down her face. She had few supporters here. 

“But yanno what?” This time he got some responses. Some ‘whats’, some ‘you tell mes’. “I betchu this ain’t the first time they screwed up. I betchu, in all their little incarnations and junk, that they almost never get it right. I mean, they’re still just Hylians. And yanno what I see? A thriving, busy marketplace in the capital of Hyrule. Regardless of all their mistakes and blunders and neglect, we the people still come out on top!”

“This is surprisingly uplifting.” Impa murmured. She didn’t expect a response from Zelda, which was good, because she didn’t get one. 

“Listen, I dunno what’s gonna happen? Really don’t, but right now my pops and I have Big Radishes on sale, and that guy over there has some good arrows on sale? Raise your hand! Yeah! That guy! And that’s it. That’s Hyrule. There’s a Zora up the square who is selling fish from Hylia Lake, in like, these giant icecubes and they’re really cool. That guy over there selling rock salt has a Goron brother-in-law somehow and has some good prices. Nevermind. He’ll have good prices tomorrow when he restocks. Point is, whatever! Who cares if we didn’t get the best luck in Triforce Wielders this time around. This is still the best time to be a Hylian!”

 

Zelda didn’t say anything on the way back to the castle. She was too busy thinking about how even though her people were in objective peace, that she still failed them. She thought about the hours she stayed awake that night, making sure Link didn’t fall asleep, just in case he didn’t wake up. Ever. She thought about how she should have carried him to the temple to seal Gannon that night, instead of caring for his life. Part of her also thought about all the times people assumed that she and Link would marry and rule the kingdom together as adults, and how impossible that seemed now that he was hiding in the Lost Woods. 

“Be calm.” Impa’s touch was gentle. They were almost inside the castle. This was no place for tears. “We have a few moments before you are expected. Do you need to practice your archery before you go in?”

Zelda nodded. “That seems appropriate.”

Zelda thought about a lot of things while she pulled the bow tight, while she loosed the arrow. The thoughts flowed from her arm to the point to the target. She fired her arrows until there were no more thoughts to empty. Then, without shedding a single tear of frustration, she reclaimed her peaceful facade. She put away her bow, and with it all of her aggression. She needed a plan. She needed to talk to Link. She supported him, she knew that. What she needed to know was Link’s plan, and she feared he didn’t have one. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Two small shelters of tattered building huddled around a large fire pit, filled with charcoal and bordered with smooth stones. Yards from where the pit sat, a small brook babbled in gentle turns. Further up, a small pool swirling with tiny blooms of algae swirled in a pond. Fish nibbled at the plants. Tall walls of marble held up no roof, but instead winding, thriving vines with flowers not ready to bloom. Further up and further in, sunlight filtered through the trees to show faded and worn steps. They led into the rubble of the temple, the walls crumbling and the archways collapsed. Still, despite the outer temple, a grand door of iron hummed. It hummed in the way that light might hum, or a songbird who had forgotten the range of hearing a hylian might have. The shelters and the firepit sat a long ways from the iron gate, for Link and Loamol feared it in a way that many feared the goddesses. Link could learn the ways of the Lost Wood. He had. The Temple of Time, however, he avoided, because he remembered that time was not the creature it was outside the temple. Loamol asked, and Link only explained that He Had Learned Much, and said nothing else aside.

Link returned from the Lost Woods, returning from a hunt, to find Loamol not by the pit. Two thoughts crossed his mind. The first was that Loamol might have ventured into the wood to retrieve a few ingredients that she could grow in the garden, which worried him because he had not taught her how to navigate the wood. The second was that Loamol may have gone to the Temple of Time with a barrage of her own questions. This worried him a great deal more. He left the hunt by the fire pit, vulnerable to faries and flies. His eyes poured over the small landscape. He did not see her. His heart raced, and frankly he hated that.

“Loamol!” His voice scratched against him. This was a place of quiet, of serenity, and shouting was not considered reverent by the Temple. He dropped an octave and spoke deeply into the clearing. “Loa! Loa where are you?”

“Link!” Her voice, strained by the Temple, was also strained by the body. His head snapped toward the pool, and found her sitting in the water. Some of the larger fish which they had been keeping now flopped helplessly in the grass. Her face was bent over in agony. Link finally took in the water. Red foam coursed over the brook. The pool where she sat curdled a deep red, which gave him flashbacks of the Water Temple. He froze. He didn’t know what he expected to do in this moment, he avoided thinking about it, but apparently his body chose to freeze.

“Link, get me clean fabric. I will need to clean myself and the knife.” 

The knife?

Then he saw what she meant. She reached into the water, pulled out a soaked, bloody infant, and with a gentle hand cut the fleshy cable from the child’s stomach. She tied the knob that stuck out from the baby’s belly, set the knife in the grass, and cleaned him as best she could with water tumbling into the pond over the rocks. Link nodded to himself, remembered what fabric was, and went off to fetch it. By the time he returned, much of the blood had run out from the pool and down the brook into the rest of the woods. Some the grass on the edges were faintly stained. He marched to her and helped her up out of the pool. Her clothes were soaked and filthy, but she was determined to wrap up her newborn first. She handed off the swaddling to Link. He held the baby carefully and awkwardly. She did not worry about changing in front of him, as she could see the glazed expression in his eyes. She wrapped herself in the fabric and dried herself. Then she took back her son. The infant’s hand glowed gently while he cried. 

“Are you alright?” she asked. “Link?”

“Me?” Link stammered quite a bit. “Me? Are you alright?! Why didn’t you tell me you were due? I could have gotten a doctor, or at least someone from the woods to help-”

“We are the daughters, and son, of the oasis. In the water is our way, but we found it is not everyone else’s.” Loamol spoke softly. “We cannot fathom how your women manage birth the way your cultures do. Although, I do realize it’s silly to say that the Zora would not understand. Yet, I do not expect you would find a practiced Zora in the wood.”

“No.” Link nodded faintly. “But are you alright? You must be in pain. You need to rest. I’ll help-”

“Peace.” She almost laughed. “This is not my first birth. Gannondorf has three sisters.”

“Oh.” Link hadn’t thought about that. Now he worried if her three daughters were well, and also realized that this glade might not support a family of six. He also remembered that Gerudo in the city grew up faster because they had to, and that her daughters were best protected if not related to the missing woman. His stomach turned. 

“Are you alright, Link?” she insisted. “It’s okay if you’re not.”

Link paused. He stared at the baby. “I’m… new to the whole birth thing. I’ve seen death plenty of times. That end of nature I know well.”

“But birth is alien.” She smiled. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, congratulations.” She gave him a reassuring chuckle to break the tension that pained his shoulders. “You have now experienced both ends.”

Link froze the fish with his arrows. He started a fire, and she took a much needed nap. She awoke to the smell of well cooked game, a small boar. Link had bottled more milk for her from the cow in the wood, and she was grateful. They ate in silence. The only disturbance to the quiet was the baby, who’s voice was quieted by the Temple. They had much to discuss, and none of the collected thoughts to do so. She nursed him, while she herself ate, and out of respect Link kept his eyes on the fire. Link didn’t want to look at the boy’s hand. After some time trapped alone with his thoughts, he found some torn fabric. He wrapped it about his left hand as he used to do when he wielded the sword. It hid his mark, and protected him from blisters. 

Though they both went to bed early, neither of them got any sleep.


	3. 03 Pieces in Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a Blood Moon, tonight.

The evening sunset painted the Hylian Marketplace in pleasant pinks and soft sorbets. Merchants lowered their awnings, called out for their last sales and gently bundled their wares for the morning. The patrolling guards yawned as they switched for their shifts- both those who were ready to sleep and those who were just waking. Their swords were sharper these days. Parents nudged their children faster off the streets, but the young hylians couldn’t see why. Folks laughed in the corners under the street lights, but the drunk still kept to themselves inside. There was not a single drop of bloodshed in the streets, not blood that mattered, but the peace was a veil. The daylight faded from the heavens, its place taken up by the tapestry of twinkling stars above. 

A guard, not yet fully awake, stared at the sky. One star seemed wrong. He squinted hard enough that his partner started to squint with him. Across the city, more people noticed the wrong star. From hidden eyes in the lower quarter to knowing members of the royal court watched the heavens. Some knew. Some suspected. Some worried. The star, undoubtedly red in hue, was growing. Women were packing with haste. Gates below the wall were opening. Over all of Hyrule, the Red Star bloomed into three large petals. There was no mistaking the red splashes against the moon as it rose into the sky. Like water stained with paint the red spilled from the star to the horizons, claiming every spectrum of light it met. The moon sunk from a soft creme into a deep, curdled carmine. In the darkest parts of every Hylian, fear turned to terror, to defensive rage. 

Drunkards poured out from their bars into the street. Guards with no law in their hearts seized their weapons. Every Hylian who had convinced themselves they had everything to fear and nothing to lose gathered like locusts. They swarmed the streets with violence in their hands. Hoards of the civilized descended on the Lower Quarter. They took up wrath and vengeance against the Daughters of Din. As the night wore on, the night sky darkened through wines and burgundies. The world below in the city mirrored the night above. Cobbles ran as red as the starlight. 

The sun, brilliantly yellow, rose over a city caked red, brown and awash with tears. Those who revered history more than their neighbors never forgot the night. Those who feared their neighbors more than the future never spoke of it again. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Zelda was locked in her room. The locks were of the door, as most locks are, but reinforced with furniture. The windows were bolted shut from the inside. Impa sat on the bed with the young woman and held the princess in her arms. Outside was howling and shouting. The two sounds were hard to tell apart, and the emotions behind them bled together. Softly, Impa hummed the lullaby passed down from incarnation to incarnation. Zelda could find no comfort in it. Instead, the young woman wept. 

“He’s doing the right thing.” Zelda repeated. She had said it twelve times this hour. “I know he is. He is doing what Hyrule needs, not what Hyrule wants.”

Impa didn’t argue. She kept humming, quietly. She stroked Zelda’s head, her blond hair running between Impa’s dark fingers in striking contrast. Zelda pushed back against Impa’s embrace. She crossed the room to her desk, picked up the quill with the intent to write a letter- and then didn’t. She slammed the quill on the desk. It made little noise, as it was still but a feather. Impa watched her from the bed. 

“If I send him a letter now, someone could follow it.” Zelda kneaded her hands into her face. “And if he knows what’s happening he might come out of hiding and fight our own people. So I cannot, absolutely cannot tell him.”

Impa waited.

“But he has to know. He has to know that his actions have consequences, and that if he truly intends to raise this… this baby then he needs to be prepared.” Zelda argued with herself, as she did often. She was the only one able to argue as well as she. “It’s not as if parenting is going to kill him over and over, and if it does, then he’s parenting the one person who can kill him permanently!”

“Keep your voice down, Zelda.” Impa said. Zelda nodded in acknowledgment. Impa patted the space on the bed and Zelda sat back down. They resumed their embrace. Zelda had no tears left to cry, no arguments left to challenge. When morning came, she remained barricaded in her room. She had no prison made of crystal. The council did not find it necessary. Instead she was imprisoned in her own room by furniture, fear and guilt. It was a better prison then any spell could have crafted.

 

Link stood outside his little marble shanty. The fire licked a single log. He stared at the heavens, wondering if his birth had been so well announced. Did the heavens paint themselves green when he arrived? Did blue light pour over Hyrule when Zelda was born? He was too tired to write a letter. He forced his eyes open by remembering why he was awake. In his arms he held the discontented infant. Gannondorf seemed as unsettled by the sky as Link. 

As the infant lay cradled in Link’s arms, their sigils glowed. Their lights were not as bright as when they were in use. Instead, the two pieces of the triforce recognized one another. Link felt oddly aware of where his sword was hiding in his shanty. It was wrapped tight in fabric, and yet he could feel the hilt in his hands where Gannondorf’s plump leg lay. The red of the heavens paralleled the red in his vision. He remembered that harrowing night in Hyrule Castle, as Link the young boy challenged Gannon, the demonic man. Link looked at the face of the baby in his arms. Gannondorf was just a plump, happy, decently healthy infant. Link started crying, and he wasn’t sure which of his lifetimes he was crying for. 

“Okay, champ.” Link dropped his voice an octave to sound more like an adult who knew what they were doing. “Things are going to be different this time around, for both of us. We’re going to get through it, and everyone will be better off for it. We’ll make sure of that.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Link had never made a baby bundle, but after watching Loamol weave one around tiny Gannon, Link found himself obsessed. He practiced it, and before the week was through, he had worked some Hylian Napkin Folding techniques into Gannondorf’s bundle. None of these napkin folds were practical, many of them not even functional, but Loamol was relieved to see Link so easily settling into a nurturing figure. With the bundle mastered, Link began to carry the baby everywhere in the glade. They took turns watching the baby, took turns sleeping, took turns tending to the garden. The only tasks not shared were hunting in the Lost Wood, and breastfeeding the baby. Life for Link and Loamol settled into a quiet routine; speech superfluous. 

Fairies came into the glade without a letter. Instead, only a red ribbon was brought to Link from Zelda. Link took the wild guess to gather his bow, march through the wood and meet Impa at the entrance. He tied the ribbon to his wrist and followed his hunch. Right at the stepping stones that do not sink… As Link stepped through of the veil of the wood he found a shadow to hide in. He gazed out from the protection of the treee-trunk tunnel to see Impa tending to a horse that wasn’t Epona. Link tried to remember what the opposite of jealousy was- not as in not feeling the emotion, but being upset that it was the wrong horse and Epona would be jealous. He tried to tell himself that Impa taking Epona out often would be suspicious, but his heart did not listen. The horse wasn’t even a proper Clydesdale.

“You cannot hide from me.” Impa hummed into the horse’s mane. “Amiable try. I’m alone.”

Link slipped from the shade of the tunnel onto the grass. “Good to see you.”

“How’s the child?”

“Plump, squirms a lot.”

Impa nodded. Sounded about right. “The blood moon shone over the Capitol that night.”

Link blinked. “The… moon that resurrects Gannondorf’s forces?”

“It resurrected monsters, alright.” Impa handed Link a scroll with Zelda’s seal. “This cannot be trusted to send, and I do not want word of this getting to your guests.”

What Link read was not a letter so much as a record of events. Though it was in Zelda’s hand, it was not in her words. They were copied from formal words of tragic events, as carried by historians and those who announce events in the square. It carried moderate estimates of numbers, both of persons and their acts. The entire event of the Capitol’s Bloodmoon make Link too sick to finish it. He handed the paper back to Impa. She folded it up and tucked it away.

“This only proves that I am right.” Link spat. He shook his arms as instinct tried to grab a sword. He walked in a tight circle. “What of the other cities?”

“Emissaries from the Royal Court have gone out to every collection of people in Hyrule, from the Zora’s Floating City to LonLon Ranch, but I left to see you before they had readied their saddles.” Impa reached into another pocket to pull out a small card. “Zelda recommends the two of you begin writing in more… subversive language. This is her recommendation.”

Link took the card and read it over. “It’s just… codewords. There’s nothing subversive to this.”

“She said you would be able to finish the task. Please take care that you do so soon, for her sight is subjective and causes her more worry than resolve.”

Link chuckled. “If she trusted herself to trust her sight, she would have been able to guide it by now. But of course she won’t hear that from us.”

Impa allowed herself to smile. She unbundled the horse, passed to Link the small saddlebags, mounted and rode to the Zora. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

In a cave smooth as brick and in caverns as lit as a temple, the Goron people huddled around their center chamber in its many tiers. Each level looked below to the center where their Chieftain sat, meditating on the fire before them. The base of the fire was littered with tiny slips of paper, where the many Gorons had written and tossed their concerns for kindling. The Chieftain breathed in the smoke. The Chieftain stood, stomped on the ground, and the entire present peoples banged their fists against the floors. The sound resounded through them. The Hylian messenger stood in the corner, terrified, and quite sure that no matter how many times he saw a Goron council he would never be used to it. 

“The greatest question is if the Messenger has been given the truth to tell.” The Chief’s rich voice was unusually smooth for a Goron, and poured over the council with profound clarity. “Messenger, step forth.”

The messenger obeyed. His bunnyhood wobbled, as spineless as its wearer. 

“Tell us, Messenger, of your personal account in these affairs.”

“I mean… I’m not a soldier. I don’t know what happened before but… I did see the Bloodmoon. We locked our doors because we were afraid that the Stalfos would come from the graveyard just outside the castle. I heard the rioting but I couldn’t look. Gannon is back.”

The room rumbled with suspicions and general mumbling from the Gorons. After a few minutes, the fires from each of the torches flared gently to get their attention. The room fell silent. The chief felt their distrust of the claim. It empowered his own. “Let us remember our own truth. Not long ago, the young boy Link came among our midsts, unabated by our grumbling, invaded our temple to soothe the beasts within. For his service, he took our sacred treasure- the Gauntlets of Gravity, that he might conquer the evil that threatened us all.”

“Link isn’t a thief.”The messenger forgot his place, but without courage could only mumble. This was almost irrelevant, for due to the acoustics of the room, the first couple of tiers could hear him anyway. 

“He took our possessions; our rupees, our Gauntlets, and many of our Deku Sticks without our permission.” The chieftain sternly reminded the messenger. “He is a thief, and not only by necessity but also by nature. Your denial holds no water here. However, he has done these things all to serve the purpose to conquering the greater calamity that our people face. He has done this, not only in this lifetime, but also in the lifetimes that persist far beyond your memory, my memory, and the memories before us. It has always been his way, to use the small things of the Hylian Peoples to accomplish the great goals that we ourselves cannot.”

The messenger took the hint and remained quiet for the rest of the council.

“However this truth of Link serves to found my belief on the matter. My Gorons, my Brothers, my People, hear my thoughts.” 

The hall resounded in the groan of a mountain who has remembered its soul is older than itself. Speak, my brother, for we listen.

“I believe that Link has committed this act of Treason, refusing the orders given to him to apprehend the Gerudo woman.” This statement came as a shock to most, especially the messenger, but not to the elders who sat on the ground floor with the Chief. The elders smiled. “As his own people reject him, it is our duty to support our Brother should he call upon us. Through his petty crimes he will save us all.”

The messenger decided to take a vacation.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The ice of the Zora’s Trading City did not feel cold. It was cold, cold solid, but underfoot it was not intolerable. That was the Zora’s greatest secret. Over the gently coarse surface of the ice stood booths and stalls, small Hylian buildings, and a great many people. Impa’s favourite stall was the one where the parent was selling masterfully crafted jewelry in the mixed traditions of the Zora and the Hylian people- and the tiny, half-stall of their daughter who sold simple shells. Impa was debating on which shell she wanted to purchase as she kept her ears to the crowds. Much to her disappointment, none of it was anything different from what she heard in Castletown’s square. Impa purchased a “creme and bark” conch for three rupees and pressed onward. 

She weaved through the crowd to the tower at the ice’s center. Not a spiraling architecture, but still easy to see above the crowd, the Ice Pillar held only two things within. The first was a spiral staircase into the heart of the ice, and the second was a plump headstone. Impa’s quiet steps made their way to the stone and traced the Sheikah Marking over its surface. As she touched it, the stone activated. 

THE TIME IS 3:00 PM.

As she finished tracing the sigil, the eye glowed a soft blue. 

YOU MAY ASK ONE QUESTION.

“Was the Hylian Messenger received into the Zora’s Court?” She expected hesitation, but there was none.

THE MESSAGE WAS RECEIVED, BUT THE MESSENGER TURNED AWAY AT THE GATE.

The eye lost its glow. Impa pet the stone affectionately as a sign of her gratitude, then put her hands into her pockets. This added clout to Zelda’s suspicions, but would not confirm them. The Zora already knew much of the story, through the whispers of the market. Their cold shoulder toward the messenger may have hinted that they already knew the events of the Bloodmoon as well, and were not comfortable with a Hylian within their midst. Impa did not blame them. Two options presented themselves: first to find the messenger whole he waited outside the door for a response that would not come, and the second was to buy another shell. Both were equally tempting, but she knew the implications it would have if she was to interrogate, however casually, a Hylian Messenger. Impa decided on some oyster shells, and before returning to the castle, a light meal of trout. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Kakariko Village did not recieve a messenger who respected their leader, for the leader already sat in the castle. Instead, the messenger stood on a stump and read the decree aloud to the villagers. Link, now stripped of title and rank, was a wanted man. He was not permitted to buy or sell goods in Kakariko, either by rupee or by barter. Instead, he was to be greeted warmly and offered a place to stay for the night. It was under command that he be followed, or prevented from leaving the village, under penalty of imprisonment. The villagers squirmed in their shoes. If he was to enter the village, he was to be trapped there- by any means necessary. Not only did the villagers note care for the idea that he might be harboring his age-less enemy, but the task of trapping a wild-child Link sounded more difficult than fighting Gannon himself. 

No one spoke to the messenger as he ate. No one asked him questions. They left him to his own devices, and then let him leave upon his horse. They held a town meeting that night in the graveyard. They drew up a plan to make wanted posters all over town. They drew the picture of a demonic looking creature in a long green hat. If anyone came in, matching the description of the wanted poster, they would detain him. Thankfully, there was no one above or below Hyrule that looked like the dramatized portrait of the poster.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Look,” the farmhand sighed. “Yes, I met Link once. Yes, his horse came from my Ranch and no he did not pay for it. However, if you look at the records, it was a gift to him by my daughter, who owns 49% of the shares in Lon-Lon Ranch.”

“That was not what I was asking-” the messenger interjected.

“Now, if you wanna take that up with the Tradesguild you got in the City, then you can make the report yourself.” The farmhand waved his hand around. It made the air smell more like horse and cows. “Good luck making a case against gifts, boy.”

“We are only reporting that he is wanted in Hyrule for treason.” The messenger blurted out. “That’s what it says here on my scroll. He directly disobeyed the throne. You saw the Bloodmoon. Already it has caused countless deaths. Monsters will crawl over Hyrule field in a fortnight. Link has forsaken his duty, his birthright, and his people. He is to be detained, and arrested by Hylian Guard. Nothing in this, at all, about horses!”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“If he comes here-”

“He’s already got the horse! Why would he come here? For another horse?! He’d be daft! Epona is the best horse there is and he has her.”

“If he comes here. For any reason. You are to detain him until Hylain Guard arrives to arrest him. That is all.”

“That’s if he comes at all.” The farmhand scoffed. “With that horse he could do laps around the ranch and be riding to fast to make the turn inside!”

Another messenger decided to take a vacation.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

A messenger rode his horse up to the archway of trees that branched off of Hyrule Field. The trees’ roots looked straight, more straight than any natural tree root, as if they were forced to be so against their nature. At the end of the short archway lay a large tunnel, the inside of a dead tree, taller in the trunk’s diameter than any man. The messenger did not know that trees could be wider than a man stands tall, or that it can be entirely hallow and yet completely dark within a few inches. The messenger looked at the scroll. On the ribbon it read Kikori Village. The road to Kikori Village was through the Lost Woods. The messenger looked at the colossal, hallow gateway. 

The messenger found a low branch, hung the decree by the ribbon, and got back on the horse. 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Zelda returned to her room from dinner to find one of the Captains of the Guard standing near her desk. Zelda’s fingers tingled for the bow. He turned slowly to face her, and as his chest turned she saw that he had a fairy, trapped in a bottle with a letter in his hand. He smirked. She nearly frowned. Thankfully, as her mother was teaching her to wear the worst and most uncomfortable dresses, was also teaching her to have complete control over her composure. Zelda smiled politely. 

“Commander, is there something I can do for you?”

“Actually yes, Princess.” He held up the letter in his hand. “I was looking to borrow one of your history textbooks. My son is about your age, you see. But I saw this invader in your room, so I caught it for you. Shall I release it into the garden?”

“That would be a generous favour.” Zelda bent with a brief courtesy. “Did you need of stationary, also?”

“Oh, this the fairy was carrying. Peculiar.” The captain pressed the nail of his thumb under the wax seal and it gently popped open. The letter unfurled. Zelda’s heart stopped on the inside. Outside, she breathed calmly. This took most of her focus. “Oh. I think I recognize this handwriting. It looks remarkably like Link’s.”

Zelda’s face soured. This was by design, she told herself. She thought quickly. “It’s… It’s not a threat, is it?”

The captain furrowed his brow together. Dissatisfied, he turned the letter over to Zelda. “It does not seem to be, but I will report this to the council. They should know that Link has the ability to write to you without your say-so.”

“Of course.” Zelda muttered. The sheet of paper did not have a note. Instead, sheet music messily scrawled across the paper organized dots for a woodwind. Beneath the bars were a song about the beauty of Hyrule Field. There were measures about the blades of grass, legions of them, thriving under the moonlight. “If you be so generous, please also tell my parents. If anyone is to know for my safety, it is them.”

“Absolutely, Princess.” He bowed briefly to her, and dismissed himself away from her room. She waited for him to be down the hall before she gently closed the door. She had send the need for code in time- but this was beyond code. No matter how she poured over the paper, she could not make sense of the notes he chose. She played the song, and found it rather generic. She stared at the paper again. 

Impa returned a short time later, appearing in an open door, instead of politely opening it as a normal person. She closed the door behind her and stood over Zelda’s shoulder. A quick glance told her what the note was, and the short chat with the guard at the door told her about who had seen it. “I am glad your wisdom has triumphed.”

“Me too.” Zelda’s voice was faint. Her focus was on the paper. “Except I think he’s gone overboard.”

Impa squinted at the page. She read the words carefully, hoping for a clue to how they were arranged. Then she noticed how he had written his ‘n’. That wasn’t his handwriting. She had corrected enough of his essays to know- and enough of Zelda’s too. That was how the Princess wrote her ‘n’s. Impa pointed it out wordlessly. Zelda stared, rubbed her eyes, and then gasped. The two poured over the paper in silence. After some time, which Impa ensured was uninterrupted, they finally found all of Zelda’s letters in Link’s song. 

Thank you, Impa, for helping her figure it out. Will this suffice?

 

Zelda changed, and doing her best not to be downright angry, sent herself to bed. Impa scrawled a simple ‘well written’ on the back of the paper, popped the cork on a bottle and sent the letter back. 

 

“Is this really necessary?” Loamol wasn’t sure why she asked the question. Granted, the answer was fear, but she didn’t want to admit it. Link bundled up the baby tight. “He’s not a Kikori. I know… you want to help me with this, but I don’t understand why this particular thing is helpful? I think that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Link wrapped a sash around his torso, tied it tight, and then tucked the Ganon-bundle into it so that the baby rest against his chest. He thew his sword over his back. Loamol couldn’t help but see it as life before him and death behind him. She prayed her sight was promise. When he stood up, he took Loamol’s hand in both of his. “This isn’t about a Kikori tradition, Loamol. This is about the Forest understanding that he is under my protection, and he is part of the wood.”

Loamol hesitated. Her brain turned a gear over and over. “He is not part of the wood. He has never been. The wood may be your home, but-”

“Are we not living in it’s borders? Do we not eat its prey and burn its leaves? I am part of the wood, yes.” Link did not speak like a short, inexperienced young man. He spoke like a Spirit. Loamol was never prepared for when he spoke like this. She could almost feel Link before Link, before Link, speaking in unison. It was chilling. It was surreal- but also made her question if other Links, other lifetimes of Link, would make the same decisions. In brief moments like this, it felt like an assurance. “While you live in the Wood, you are the Wood. This wood devours the stranger but fosters its own. This is no vain tradition, but stalwart protection. In this lifetime, and depending on his actions quite possibly the next, the Wood shall be home to him.”

Link left the protection of the glade. He told her how it would go. He would go to the heart of the wood, where a stump never died and never grew. The child would be placed on the stump, bathed there, and a fairy was to come forward to bless the child. If the child was ever in need, that fairy would guide them in the way of the wood. No child of the forest would be lost. Loamol asked if the fairies would reject him due to his lot in life. Link did not answer her then, but what was worse was that he decided to weild the sword.

Loamol prayed to Din for six hours before they returned. Both Link and the child were unharmed. Link returned Ganon to his mother, and promptly fell asleep.

 


	4. Prison Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited the beginning to make the time skip apparent.

Five winters and five summers passed. Gannondorf grew in the small glade on fish and tiny garden plants under the shadow of the Temple of Time. Loamol stayed in the glade with her son, and Link took the freedom of the Wood less and less. Completely disconnected from the world, tethered only by the cycles of the heavens above, all of Hyrule became to them the small hill of grass hidden away in the Lost Woods. 

Loamol sat with Link over what was a scarce dinner. It wasn’t that there was not enough in the wood, but they were both weary enough of rabbits and small birds to consider they weren’t hungry enough to eat. The conversation started without words. Loamol stared out into the garden, and Link stared into the fire. Then, Link nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I said nothing.” Loamol spoke softly. It was too much energy to fight the hush of the Temple.

Link waved a his half-eaten rabbit on a stick in her general direction. “Just because I lived this way as a kid did not mean I enjoyed it. It makes it worse that I know what proper seasoning is now. All those years in the castle has spoiled me. Something has to change.”

Loamol thought to lean into the complaint, but instead she laughed. “If you think what they had in Hyrule Castle was seasonings, wait until you see what we Gerudo can do! Oh, but do not lament. I know you are doing what you can. These seasonings do not grow in the Wood. I cannot hold against you what we do not have. Though, it would be a treat to see what the Zora markets would hold.”

Link paused. “Then I’ll go.”

Loamol scooped up the young Ganon from her lap, and nudged him inside the hut. He protested quietly, but scuttled inside. She thought carefully about how to phrase her concerns. Some things were easier to say in her mother tongue, but Link was not learning it well. “You risk much by going, perhaps too much.”

“We cannot rely on Zelda to send us everything Ganon needs.” Link frowned with the words. It came off his lips like something he had only admitted to himself in silence. “And there will be things we want. The difference between a prison and a safehouse is the quality of life. There are enough blonds my age, I can blend in well enough in the market. So long as I do not carry my sword, no one will be the wiser.”

“You mean to tell me they only recognize you if you wear green and carry a blue-hilted sword?” Loamol almost scowled with how ridiculous that seemed. Then she remembered she was talking about Hylians, who revere legend more than their own noses. “Be wary, Link.”

They finished their dinner under the hushed evening breeze. As the fire turned to smoke and the stars took their place, they got Ganon ready for bed. Link threw silt from the brook into the fire to quench the last of the sparks. Loamol passed her fingers through the final whisps of smoke. It was a blessing.

“Link,” she said.

“Hm?”

“Do you even own clothes that aren’t green?”

He hesitated. He looked at her with a boyish, doe-eyed expression. “I mean. I was hoping to borrow some of yours.”

She sighed.

~*~*~*~*~

 

It now became clear to Loamol on how Link had become such a master of belts, and odd clothing. For much of his life, and for good parts of his many other lives, his clothes did not fit him. This was namely because they were not his clothes. Link, the sticky-fingered child that he would ever be, had a talent for taking other people’s clothes and, as he put it, ‘making it work’. She watched as he borrowed one of her robes and with a few peculiar adjustments, had a lovely tunic with characteristic flare. The brown, soft like the deer but rich like the bark, suited him nicely. Loamol suspected she would never get this back. Where he managed to hide all the extra fabric was beyond her. She was nearly a good foot taller than he, and yet the robe hung perfectly around his knees. Tights led into worn, brown boots.

“You look like a vagabond.” She jostled Ganon in her arms to adjust how he sat on her hip. “It’s almost too close to the truth.”

“That’s how a disguise is perfect.” Link smirked. This did not make her feel better. “I won’t be back for a couple of days. It’s better to pick up some work for rupees, instead of bringing something from the Wood to sell. Less to carry, less to upkeep, better turn-around time. With monsters about now, there will be plenty of folks who don’t want to deal with them.”

“And you’re alright without a sword?”

“I’ll get a new one at the market. Until then I have my bow, and frankly only Impa can best me at this point.”

“How can you be this cavalier?” She thought to snap, but didn’t want to upset the boy.

Link only held up his hand. Courage. Loamol drew with her finger over his head a blessing. He bowed briefly, scooped up his bow and took to the wood.

“Mama?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to worry.” Ganon smiled. “No one is stronger than him.”

She found herself smiling. She tapped his nose. “Wait until you’re big, Ganon. You could be stronger than him one day.”

Together they laughed, but she thought to herself about what she had said. Loamol did the one thing she hated to do. She worried.

 

Link stepped out from the wood. He found himself sad to not see Impa waiting for him. He took a deep breath of Hyrule field. It smelled sour, like it used to. He could see where the grass was torn up by the Stalchildren. Some hazy, distant nightmares came back to him. He smiled to himself and marched on into the daylight. He thought to summon Epona, and realized that he should not. He stood on the field, with Hylia Lake just beyond the horizon, alone and in worn out boots. He was glad he didn’t bring a stag to sell. At least now, as an adult, his stride was longer. It would not take him as long to cross Hyrule field as when he was a boy.

Bones scattered Hyrule Field. Some were bones from the Stalfos and Stalchildren, but many were not. There were bones of animals, small prey, but also of horses half decayed. Link kept walking. He walked past the unsightly remains of a merchant who had traveled with his cart at night, and now all that was left were the shredded planks of his cart, and half of his body. Link found himself staring at it. He couldn’t tell if it had been done by monsters or people, and he wasn’t sure which was worse. The evil was stronger now than when he was a boy. This put some serious doubts into his decisions.

Sure, he hadn’t been born yet when Gannon was this age last time. He had only known that there was monsters, they had been there a bit, and after ten years the citizens of Hyrule couldn’t wait any longer for Link to grow up. Link took a deep breath and tried to remember dreams- remember his past lives. Had it always been this bad? Walking across Hyrule field was not the easiest place to meditate. Even with Zelda’s help back in the castle, he had never been able to navigate his older memories freely. His memories were instincts; they were familiar swings he had learned long ago and they were itches in his feet when familiar dangers flickered their tells. They weren’t like Zelda’s memories, vivid retellings of history, distorted by the omens of one’s dreams. Link wondered how Ganon would remember himself. He suspected it would be in ways neither Link nor Zelda had any concept of.

Link saw a horse that looked like Epona, and took solace in the fact that she was locked up in Castletown. It had been too suspicious to see her disappear all the time, and so his precious steed was safe. He checked the corpse just to be sure. He hummed her song under his breath and prayed that her chains could hold her.

Lake Hylia was a sight to see, but the trading city on ice was her crown. After generations, and generations, of the Zora domain being threatened by ice, the Zoras had decided to own it. They learned its properties, its strengths, its weaknesses, and now in every season they had an iceberg, a floating city of solid white with sheen blues. It was their capitol, how they kept the lake clean, and atop it the many rupee-minded travelers set up their wares. Long, sloping ramps curved around its edges and branched out to the different edges of the lake. Link stepped up from the dusty, well-trodden road onto the ice. It was gently coarse, like sandpaper, to keep visitors from slipping. It was frozen with an odd composition (a family secret of the Zora Royal Family) so that no one felt the cold of it underfoot. Many suspected the structure was actually glass- but aside from its appearance it had none of the other properties. It didn’t crack or break like glass, it didn’t even reflect light the way glass would. Link breathed in the sounds of the market, the gentle breeze of the lake, and let all of his childhood memories wash over him. It was good to be back.

Link knew the rough layout of the trading city. He flocked to the center where there was a complaints board. There, he knew he would find work. When he arrived, a small crowd gathered around a new desk where a young Zora worked furiously. They were handing out papers, stamping papers, and signing others. In the chaos, Link saw a fluid rhythm. He nodded. The Zora was doing their job well. Link weaved through the crowd to the board to find work.

The board was almost empty. There were barely enough jobs to cover a corner. They were beaten and battered, repinned a few times, retorn just as often. They were the unwanted jobs. Link furrowed his brow. A guy tapped his shoulder.

“Sorry kid.” The stranger laughed. It was not a friendly laugh. “You want real work? You gotta come before sunup like the rest of us.”

“I…” Link looked over the four jobs that were left. “I thought there would be more. Aren’t the monsters really bad, here?”

“Yeah, but so are us Hylians!” There was a unifying cry amongst the nearby men. “Who needs a stinkin’ hero when all swords cut the same?!”

Link chose not to take offense. He chose to be proud of his people, who weren’t cowering at the face of danger. He chose not to resent the same people who made him fight when he was a child. He chose to look at the board instead of the dumb, idiotic people. One job looked harmless. It asked for someone to teach a boy to wield a sword. Link took up the page. That was even a relatively safe job, depending on the boy. Granted the job had been repinned no less than seven times, but Link had the advantage. No one had more experience with the sword in all of Hyrule than Link. Additionally, no one had more experience on relearning how to use it more than Link. He took it to the desk, got it stamped by the Zora, and slipped out of the crowd.

 

“I’m here to help train your son.” Link held up the paper to the little log hut’s door. The hut sat awkwardly on the ice, knowing it did not fit the aesthetic. And elderly man squinted at the paper. Then he squinted at Link.

“Boy.” The elder said. “No offense, but you’re not even carrying one yourself.”

Link glanced at his belt. He missed his sword. “That’s true. Been hunting more than fighting, and the bow makes a better predator.”

The elder stared through Link’s eyes. Link wondered if he had been found out, but the man quickly gave up. “Eh, hell’s with it. The boy’s out back. We’ll know soon enough if you’re worth your rocks.”

Link walked around the hut and leaned against the back wall. The boy was flailing against a broken training dummy. He had some good stances from what other swordsmen had shown him, but the sword was off balance. With an off balanced blade, the boy didn’t stand a chance. Link recognized it rather easily, and knew immediately why all the other swordsmen had given up on the boy.

The boy’s sword was old. The blade had been resharpened a thousand times. The hilt had been rewrapped, revarnished, retreated. It was more than a blade, it was a legacy, and it was far too big for a boy who hadn’t grown into a man’s sword. Link watched to see what the boy understood. It wasn’t much. After a few moments he had seen enough. He lay down his bow, picked up a wooden sword that was leaning against the house, and tapped the boy on the shoulder.

The boy didn’t even look at him. “I’m not using that.”

“That’s why it’s in my hand, not yours.”

“Whatever,” the boy said. “I’m gonna save us both time. I don’t want to learn how to use any stupid sword. I want this sword. No, I’m not changing my mind. No, I’m not gonna ‘wait until I’m older’. No, I don’t want one of your old swords that you trained on. If you can’t handle that, you can leave.”

Link whacked the boy in the back of his knees so that he doubled back and collapsed on the ground. Even as he fell the sword did not drop from his hands. Link could feel the old man watching. Link looked the boy in the eye. The boy glared back at him. This apparently was not the first time he had started a lesson on the ground. There was steel, and hurt, and anger in this boy’s eyes. Link nodded.

“Well then you need to learn to balance it.” Link said. “Show me your hands.”

The boy’s face softened to suspicion. “Are you trying to trick me?”

“No, I’m trying to see how small your hands are in comparison to the hilt of the sword.”

The boy pushed himself to his feet. He squeezed both of his tiny fists onto the hilt of the normal sword. It was a tight fit, but there was just enough space under the guard. Link turned the sword and the boy’s arms to get a full look at his grip. Then the kid tried to take a swing at him. Link hopped to the side, and with the wooden sword, struck the kid in the shoulder.

“You’re not cute.” Link spat. “But if you’re going to kill me, you better mean it.”

“You’re not smart.” The kid sneered. He loosened his grip, but didn’t let the sword’s tip touch the ground. Link was satisfied with the bit that the others were able to teach him, even if they couldn’t finish the job. “You’re not the only one to try to use it as a two-handed.”

“But your hands are getting too big for it, and your balance is still wrong.” Link finished the thought. “Good. At least we’re on the same page. The first thing you need to do is find the center of your sword. Have you done that?”

The kid rolled his eyes. He pointed to the bloodgroove, and then the handguard. “Here, and here.”

“Yes, for a grown man.” Link closed the distance between them. He held out the wooden sword to the boy, who took it. Link clapped his hands together in front of him, and pressed them together. He kept his thumbs straight up. “Okay. Place the wooden sword on my hands. We’re going to adjust it back and forth until it lays level on the sides of my hands. That will be the sword’s center. Then we’ll do the same for you. Alright?”

The boy nodded. He lifted the wooden sword, and slowly shifted and tipped the practice piece over Link’s hands until it hung in perfect level. It was further up from the hilt than a proper sword was supposed to be. The two also found that it tilted slightly to the right. They concluded that the wooden sword was unbalanced all on its own. Then the boy hesitated. Seeing the sword perched evenly on Link’s hands, he passed his prized blade to Link and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, now since this is an actual sword,” Link gently lowered it over his hands, “This will be a bit heavier; and the weight is distributed differently than you’re used to. If your arms get tired, tell me so we don’t drop it.”

It didn’t take long to see that the sword was off balance, also. It was roughly in the right place, but it twisted in strange directions and it took several tries to get the blade to sit evenly on the boy’s hands. When they finally got it, Link marked it with a piece of chalk. They gently lifted the blade off his hands, wrapped them up, and Link returned the sword to him. He wielded for himself the wooden sword, and took two large paces back.

“Okay. Now that you know where the sword’s true center is, come at me.”

The student who now respected the teacher stared at him in disbelief. “Shouldn’t you get your sword?”

“Don’t have one.”

“But…” The boy looked about. There were no other swords. “That’s not a fair fight.”

“Then enjoy having the advantage.” Link smirked. He settled gently into his stance. It was a comfortable thing, one polished with education of all kinds, and practiced on the edge of death itself. The boy realized that Link did not need a real sword. “Advantage is hard to come by.”

“I won’t hold back.” The boy warned. “I might hurt you.”

“Yeah.” Link laughed. “You tell yourself that.”

Link watched as the boy tried to incorporate his new knowledge. Every few swings the boy adjusted, tried to find his sword’s center, and rebalance himself against it. The swordsmen before had not failed the boy- this was clear. Their teachings had rooted, and now that the final piece was in place all that was left to practice. Practice, however, was sorely needed indeed. Link sidestepped around the boy’s telegraphed efforts. It was almost as bad as the Lizalfos, he realized. Most often he just walked away, clear of the intended strike range. This frustrated the boy to no end, but it served as a perfect motivator.

The boy leaned in for a swing, Link shifted to the left, and then the boy pivoted on the balls of his feet and brought the sword around on its own weight to catch Link’s path. Link deflected with the wooden sword, but the edge of the true blade cleaved a dent into the surface. Link raised an eyebrow. The boy smirked. The boy pulled back and lounged the tip of his sword forward toward Link’s chest. It was in perfect form. His feet were the right distance apart. His arms were at the right height. The sword was level with itself, pointing like a compass to the enemy. Link avoided it by stepping back, away from the boy’s short arms. He couldn’t hold the weight in front of him and the sword’s point fell. Disappointment spilled over the boy’s face.

“Now that is swordsmanship.” Link growled. “That is how you handle your blade!”

The boy blinked out of his focus. He held the sword in his hands and stared at it. He broke into an uneasy laughter. “I’m doing it. I’m really doing it.”

Link set down the wooden sword, picked up the boy’s scabbard, and held it out to him. The boy gently placed the sword in its sheath.

“Sure, I still need a lot of practice, but at least now I can spar with others.” The boy spoke excitedly to himself. Link was surprised by his scope of reality. He expected the boy to be gunning for the gates, but the understanding of procedure and personal ability was refreshing. “Heh, those other swordsmen will be beside themselves! I knew I could do it. I knew it was possible. They’re gonna have to look at me in the eye and knew that I succeeded where they gave up.”

Link nodded. There was nothing to add. There was nothing for him to say to enhance the moment. Link instead bowed deeply to the boy as his mentors had once done for him. The boy bowed back. His own heart beat hard against his ribs. It was a feeling better than he anticipated.

“You’ll be leaving once you’re paid, won’t you?” The boy asked.

“I have a family of my own to look after.” Link spoke softly. Though the line felt like a lie, it was truer than he gave credit. “But I will be here in the city for a few days before I return to them. Once I have a sword, perhaps you can find me for a real lesson in swordsmanship.”

“What, you’d beat a learning boy right in the square?”

Link returned the firey expression on the boy’s face. “I respect you too much to hold back, kid.”

The boy held out his hand, and Link shook it. It was a deal. The elder finished making lunch for the boy, paid Link, and sent the swordsman away with a heavy bag of rupees and an empty stomach.

 

Link spent most of the money on spices. They were more expensive than he anticipated. Though he suspected being ripped off, he did get sizable quantities. Loamol would be thrilled. He thought of buying clothes for Gannon, but realized fabric would go further. He purchased a couple of bolts of fabric, and the kindly woman at the stall drew up a pattern for the boy for free. Link nearly hugged her. He bought whetstones, seeds and starters for the garden, and a simple sword for himself. They caught his eye as he crossed back to the working quarter. He wasn’t sure if they were authentic, or if they were a mockery of the culture- but a pair of curved swords lay on a Goron’s stall.

“Some Hylian turned them in to pay a debt.” The Goron offered Link. “Said he… found them on the first Blood Moon. I’d rather not have them on me, and honestly I just want my debt paid in proper rocks.”

“They’re small.” Link measured them against the size of his hand.

The Goron nodded. “Yeah, doesn’t make me feel any better about them.”

Link nodded, grim. “Alright. How much was the debt?”

“How much you got?”

“A piece of my mind.” Link spat. The goron rolled his eyes. “Fine. 230 Rupees for the pair. This way I know that whatever sick thing you do with them, Hylian, I know I paid you your dues.”

“At least you’re honest about ripping me off.” Link tried not to snarl. He paid the rupees, wrapped up the twin swords in fabric, and tucked them into his pack. “Go drown your sorrows, yeah?”

“Ain’t enough milk in all of Hyrule to drown the sorrows in this place.”

Link left the stall with barely any rupees in his pocket. The blades were still a bit big for Gannon. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had bought the boy a weapon. Perhaps because the boy was still a General, a King, and a warrior by nature. He wasn’t Link without the green armour or the Master Sword. Gannon wasn’t himself without his blades and his magic. Link decided not to tell Loamol he bought them.

When he reached the Worker’s Quarter, he had the posting for the Sword Lessons signed by the Zora who worked the desk. Thankfully it was another Zora. She worked just as hard as the one who had stamped the paper in the early morning. She raised her brow to see the job complete. She filed it, and turned to others. Link returned to the board. There were more jobs, none of them well paying, but a fair amount of effort.

The Zora climbed up on the desk. She clapped her hands, but she already had everyone’s attention.

“Alright, everyone! We got word that a hoarde is going to be storming the gates tonight, so we’re looking for extra manpower! We can’t afford to keep the gates open at night, so you’ll be set up on the shores at sundown! We’ll let you back in when the sun comes up! Now we don’t know how many are coming, so bring in a skull for every monster you kill! Bokoblins are worth 10 Rupees, Stalfos are 20, Lizalfos are 30, and Moblins are 50! Anything else that shows up is a pretty 100 Rupees! BYOB, that being Bags, Blades and Booze! That will be all!”

Link, like many of the men who heard that announcement, decided to find a place to sleep for the afternoon. Link was surprised by the number of people, from every race he could see, who had resolved to stand outside the gate. Many of them were armed to the teeth. There were even women, which made Link think of Impa, who had their own weapons of choice. The echo for the call poured over the whole market. Prices for weaponry and supplies jumped, and shadows filled with those who aimed to sleep. Indoor taverns charged a special price for Afternoon Refreshment, which actually came with a meal. Link made his way to the center of the city, where the tower stood tall.

He made his way to the staircase. He waited for folks to clear the space. With a finger, he traced the symbol of the Shiekah over the stone. The stone hummed.

THE TIME IS 1344.

Link kneeled next to the stone. “Are there Wizrobes coming?”

YES.

Link pet the stone with gratitude as Impa had taught him. That was bad. Link took a deep breath. He was going to need more than sleep. He regretted spending so much of his money on the blades for Gannon. He had only green Rupees left, and without his Master Sword, he did not have a confident way to destroy the Wizrobes. He would need a more reflective surface than a common sword to reflect their attacks. There was not enough rock to pay for a proper shield. He was going to need a more clever solution. Link was glad to be himself.

Link made his way down the staircase in haste. He couldn’t give up who he was to ask for a favour. He couldn’t buy anything useful. He couldn’t risk death, goddesses forbid his cover be blown that way too. Thankfully, Link had a way of working with scraps of the world. He meandered his way about the Zora city and borrowed a few things. Then he found himself a place to sleep. It was going to be a rough night.  

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Link stood on the grassy shore of Hylia Lake with the masses. Warriors of every caste, from men who failed to become Hylian Soldiers to those who were still new to the sword stood shoulder to shoulder. Few had brought more than refreshments with them. A handful of children had set up a small camp way behind the lines. They had a small cookfire, drinks they couldn’t enjoy themselves, and blankets. They had large pouches for rupees, which were mostly empty. Link gave the kids credit- they had moxie. They had more moxie than a lot of the men standing around him.

The rumbling came. Link did not expect rumbling, but everyone else did. Knowing, mournful expressions hardened their faces and their grip. Link pushed toward the front. He wasn’t sure what he’d do when he got there, but his legs were moving. He would meditate on that later. However, when he reached the front lines, he found someone else facing the crowd. It was a well toned man, his Hylian Guard armour was worse for wear. His halberd had a new handle. He spoke with grandeur. He was rallying troops.

“We fight for money,” he said with a smile, “but also so that our sons and our daughters may never touch the blade! May the heads of our enemies pave the paths that our children will dance upon! May the rupees of the Royal Coffers clink in our pockets! May the goddesses rue the day they turned their backs on us!”

There was a roar. Link was glad he was wearing gloves, but his thoughts were elsewhere. What if Gannon never had to fight? What if, by the time he was of age, the crisis could be over and settled? Could they evade an all out war? While Link debated the possibility of peace, the Moblins crowned over the hill. There was lighting from behind them. It was not light like lanterns- brighter, bluer, greener. Link knew that glow. He came back to the battlefield where the war was already taking place. He reached into his pack. Slabs of broken ice-wall sat like broken mirrors in his possession. He began to weave through the first lines of the battle. He found everyone with a shield or a polearm. He gave them slabs of wall that were nearly shields themselves. The ice of the Zora never melts, not in the city. Today, that would be tested.

“Boy, what you got there?” The Hylian Guard shouted.

“Those are Wizrobes on the hill!” Link shouted back. “Archers can take them out, especially with the right arrows, but their attacks cross over the whole field. If we can deflect them, we can use the elements against them! Lightening strikes Ice, Ice strikes Fire, Fire strikes Lightening!”

Everyone questioned why he knew what to do with Wizrobes. No one questioned it out loud. Either they didn’t want to know, didn’t want to intrude, or didn’t have time to frame the words. Those who weilded the Zora Ice were grouped up, and commanded to control points on the field. The Guard commanded groups, gathered intel, and assigned the lesser equipped to run messages and commands to the back lines. Organization flourished in the last moments before the clash. It transformed the mob into a collective force, and the force struck in awkwardly coordinated waves.

Despite his ability, his experience and his knowledge, Link did not truly understand how to fight in an army. He knew how to fight a hoard, he knew how to use his environment and a wide array of tools, but not how to fight in an army. It did not help that the army was in competition with itself, collecting heads and leaving animated bodies in their wake. Messengers between waves dissolved into stragglers, picking off kills where they could manage. Wizrobes were cornered in fields of their own element, eventually jumping over the walls of reflective ice on the ground. When men died, they were trampled and the heads they collected were stolen. It was a massacre, and there was no clear sides. At least the monsters were of one mind on who the enemy was. Link lounged to save as many as he could, collect as much as he could- trading lives saved for heads stolen from their collections.

The archers were not focusing on the Wizrobes. They took too many arrows and no one was sure their heads stayed together. Link sheathed his sword, flung his bow into his hands, and scooped up arrows that were fallen. He stole arrows from the Bokoblins, arrows from other archers defending the city. Well aimed shot after well aimed shot was easy when it was only Link and the Wizrobe. Now he had to watch for Moblins too, and not to mention his fellow man. Lizalfos were at least easy to avoid, with their piercing cries and calculated footwork. Link cornered a Wizrobe into a field of the element made by another. Trapped in its weakness, the circle of soldiers pierced it through. They fought over the head of the beast. Link rallied as many archers as he could muster to corner and slay the elemental monsters- but most were more concerned about the ground than the looming threat above.

Link expected to feel awake. Link, after being imprisoned with Loamol in the Lost Woods expected to feel free- to feel himself, out on the battlefield. He did not. Instead, he felt as heavy and as calloused as he did when he was a child. He didn’t feel like it was some destiny to fight. It felt like wounds, open and bleeding, but the pain was gone. With every instinctual sword swing, and every pull on the bow, he remembered that he hated his destiny. He hated this life he was given, and for the first time, he actually felt like a traitor. He felt like someone who had committed treason. He was too angry about all of it to make any real decisions, but it certainly added sting to his strikes.

It was a long night, indeed. Link, with his swift fingers and enduring focus, made hefty rocks come morning.                

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

Link was at a point where he wanted to save rupees for later, but also he had the opportunity to buy things he wanted. This was a dangerous position indeed. The only way, he felt, to avoid backlash of buying things they don’t need was to not just buy for himself, but for Loamol and Gannon, too.  This was obviously the benevolent thing to do. He wandered the market like a man with a secret to tell. To his surprise, he found some unusually cool things. He found a book on historical architecture. He found a crystal that tells time by reflecting light into a sundial carved within it. Link had no idea how it worked and he spent hours trying to figure it out. It was while he was still debating how light itself was both a thing and not a thing, that he felt a tap on his elbow.

“I hope you’re ready to lose in full sight of everyone!” The tapper proclaimed. This statement turned heads. A small circle around Link formed, a border formed by spectators. Folks were already asking what was happening faster than the question had even formed in Link’s mind. Words had not exactly worked their magic in Link like everyone else. He was a man of action. While he, himself, was asking what was happening, his hands decided they didn’t care.

Link drew his sword, which he had become quite familiar with the night before, and stepped back a step and a half from the person who touched him. His eyes focused. There was no fairy to lock his attention, but he had enough practice not to need her so much. His shoulders fell in line with his ankles, and his arm was bent to wield a shield he did not own. Now that he had rupees he could get a new one, and that thought would not occur to him for another few hours. Standing in front of him was the boy with the grown man’s sword. Thankfully Link’s brain was good at context clues, and his brain settled into place. False alarm. No danger detected. Sport Mode, Initiated.

“Bold talk for only one day,” Link smirked, “but I respect your initiative. No time like the present.”

Link held up his sword; a simple, common piece with no sort of history or merit. The boy held up his sword- though initially unremarkable, an aged piece with its own legacy woven into its wear. They stepped away from the market stalls, faced one another, and bowed. Link cut through the air with reflexive, bragging strikes. His blade was new but his hand was experienced. The boy held his sword as best as he had practiced, but his blade knew more battles than he had meals. Link would reflect on it as a delicious dynamic, and retell the story with far more flare than a simple duel in the marketplace could carry. The spectators gathered. The people who sold travel-foods descended like scavengers. The boy couldn’t hold back any longer.

The boy rushed Link, his blade nigh parallel to the ice. He carried himself low, with clean form, but rigid movements. Link waited. He watched the boy cover the distance, timing him, measuring the space. As the blade cast a shadow over his boots, Link sprung up into the air and flipped over the boy. He landed it with his leg outstretched, dragged an arch with his boot over the ice and pulled himself up to his full height as he turned to face the boy. As he finished his flourish, his swordarm unfolded. The sword pointed to the nape of the boy’s neck. The boy was staring where Link’s chest had been. He yanked his focus into the present and pivoted to smash his blade against Link’s. They stood with their blades crossed. Link pressed down the flat of his blade against the boy’s, and the boy’s blade balanced the pressure against the two hands on the hilt. It put a lot of strain on the boy’s arms. With Link’s acquiescence and the boy’s force of will, the young swordsman shoved back.

The crowd was definitely impressed. They cheered, obviously for the boy, but also in general. Rupees began to flow from hand to hand. Zora guards gathered, but stationed themselves close to the market stalls. These competitions were good for moral, good for business, and good for breaking up a long shift. One guard prevented another child from running into the battle. Link distinctively smelled sausages and his hunger tugged at his attention. It was ignored. The sword was in mastery.

The boy gathered himself. He re-steeled his expression. He shuffled his feet forward. Thrust, thrust, under-arch swing. Link blocked. What he expected to be able to manage with one hand sent his sword out of his intended zone. There was no room on his hilt for two hands, not the way he was used to. He shifted his feet to change his stance. His right arm tugged to bring up a shield he did not have. He could not block without his sword, and he could not use both hands. The boy was gaining momentum and determination. With each parry Link provided, his arm found it harder to recalibrate how much force to parry with. To adjust for raw strength, Link began to use technique. It was a good one for the boy to learn, anyhow. With each heavy blow that the boy gave, Link slid his sword up along the boy’s blade. It pushed the pressure away from his hands so that the boy now had to focus on balance with every low swing he made. What Link didn’t account for was the boy’s stamina. Practicing with a sword too large for him, especially with his given determination to wield it, had far expanded his tolerance for exhaustion.

Link kept walking backwards. He sometimes shifted to the left, to keep the fight away from the crowd or the stalls. The boy followed him with every step. It became apparent to the spectators, but not the boy, that Link was leading- not receding. The boy kept pushing ‘forward’. He kept lunging, he kept exerting his stamina that the boy so relied on. It wasn’t until Link started talking that the boy realized something was wrong.

“You are so busy trying to prove you can wield a sword,” Link shouted over the clanging metal, “that you outright refuse to drive it home!”

The boy stopped striking. He looked over Link. Link was breathing deeply, calmly, patient. The boy had done nothing for all his effort, panting and sweating. “How can I if you keep blocking my attacks?!”

“You’re too predictable. Like a beast.” Link waved his sword toward the gates of the city. “We can hold off the monsters and the rabble because they only know one trick. To best them, to best another swordsman, you cannot let them see through you.”

“Like your backflip.” The boy smiled.

“No.” Link smirked in reply. “That is reckless in a real fight and has caused me more injuries than anything.”

The boy could have laughed. The boy could have learned the lesson, but instead the boy grew angry. He growled like a man with too many drinks. “This is a real fight!”

The boy let go of the sword with one hand, leaped forward with one foot, and began to swing the sword all the way around his person. Halfway through the air, he let the sword pull him through the leap. The momentum of the two- the sword and its new master, carried him all the way around. As the sword came back around he grabbed it with his second hand and brought the full force of his movement to blows. Link wanted to duck under it, but the boy’s height made the swing itself rather low. Instead, Link reached out with his right hand, grabbed the boy by the arm and pushed him just a few degrees further into his spin. Unable to control the extra momentum, the boy landed the leap backwards, stumbled, and fell into Link’s side. The boy did not let go of the sword, and the weight of it pulled against his wrist more than it could bare. The boy let out a howl of a scream as his wrist pulled too far.

Link took the sword out of the boy’s hands, laid it gently on the ground with his, and reached into his pack for wrappings. The boy’s screaming fizzled into snarling and gasping. Before he could push Link off, he was already tending to the heavily sprained wrist. He tried to pry Link’s grip with his uninjured hand, but it it also made his own injured wrist jostle. The mother of the boy rushed out from the crowd and knelt before her boy.

“You didn’t have to do that!” She spat at Link. Link cast her a sideways glance, and returned to wrapping up the bad wrist. When it was tight, he slipped in some herbs that would (eventually) soothe the pain. He didn’t massage it. Instead, he folded it against the boy’s chest and tied his arm in place with a sling. Being prepared for the night before had been a boon for gathering supplies for first aid as a whole, and Link was happy to have gone overboard. “Why didn’t you just get out of the way? Huh? Or just stop him?!”

“That would have caused more damage.” Link said. “Had I let him land on his own, he would have not been able to keep his balance. It was more likely that he fall on the sword than tumble clean. Is that preferable for you?”

The woman did not take this statement well, but the boy thought his flourish through. He thought about how the space was laid out, and how much force he had on his legs to stop the movement. There were only two options- spearing his mentor in the gut, and… landing on the blade with enough force to go all the way through. He hung his head. He looked at his sword, and in his own thoughts he apologized to it.  

“I have supported your madness long enough.” The mother turned to her son with a bitter victory on her tongue. “Now do you see? This whole swordsman thing is out of the question. We have spent enough money, enough time for you to come to your senses. You could be injured permanently, so you can say goodbye to wielding that damned sword again. If we’re lucky you’ll still be able to use that hand for a real trade. Tomorrow morning we are going to the Zora City below and pray that the elder Zoras are willing to take you on as a servant!”

Link stood up. He rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s your father’s sword?”

The boy nodded. The mother started to burst her seams.

“Then it makes sense that you want to pick up where he left off.” Link glanced at the mother. “So you’re going to need the most important thing to your father if you want to walk in his shoes.”

The boy squinted. He finally looked at Link’s face. “That’s… Mom and me.”

“Exactly.” Link wanted to smile with encouragement. He wasn’t able to lie. “You can either fight, and defend your home as your father did, or find another way to protect you and your mother. You have practiced long and hard as a swordsman. Your wrist is only sprained, and so long as you are gentle, and then exercise it once it is healed, you will be fine. It will be sore when it rains. It may give out from time to time, but you will be able to fight. However, be sure that fighting is what you want to do, boy. Once you join the ranks, you cannot escape. Goddesses knows I’ve tried.”

The boy nodded absently.

“Also, that move definitely has potential, but from the sides you become a walking target. If you are going to use it, you will need to protect yourself while in motion, until you come to a complete stop. Otherwise it will get you killed next time you use it in full force.”

The boy nodded. He didn’t get up off the ice. The crowd dispersed. Link put away his sword. It felt cheap in his hands compared to the Master Sword. That made sense, but he still didn’t like it. The Zora took him aside later, asking him to be sure not to start more fights without notifying them first. They told him it was difficult to set up protective measures and medical teams nearby without notice. Link was surprised and receptive to this, but still wound up having to pay a fine. By the time Link remembered to buy a new shield, he had already left the city.

 

~*~*~*~*~

The road home was longer than the road out. Link had carried a lot of things in his time, but they were all tools, and they hung on him in their own useful ways. Now he was carrying a wide assortment of things which had no intention of traveling. The small glass bottles of the spices weighed on him most of all. After the battle he had gone and bought more of them, many which he could not even pronounce, and was simply hoping that Loamol would know what any of them were. The bolts of fabric were somehow the easiest to carry, once Link used the bolts like bones in his pack of tethered goods. One fact stood out to him. He was a sitting duck, and a wealthy one too. The march to the Lost Woods was going to be hell. He longed for Epona to carry his burdens for him.

His feet were sore, but not more than his back. He kept his pace by breathing the way the Gorons had taught him. Link furrowed his brow. He hadn’t seen a lot of Gorons at the market. There were a few, but even the Gorons about were bristly and guarded. That felt wrong to Link. Even the Zoras, who lived there, were not as abundant. Most of the Zora were beneath the ice. He hadn’t seen a single Gerudo, for the few he traded with were under guise as Hylians. This sat wrong on Link’s heart in a lot of ways, but most of all it stood as a word of caution. What happened, exactly, between the Hylains and everyone else? Granted the Gerudo he knew to be in hiding. Even in the best of times they fled to the shadows for safety, but… the Gorons too?

“Drop yer bags, and walk.”

Gorons never had fear for anyone, Link thought, so for them to hide wasn’t… right, exactly.

“I said drop yer bags!”

Link found himself drawing his sword. This was clumsily done, and took the wind out of him, because he did not drop his bags. A few things happened in that split second, and none of them registered at the moment. His instincts flared; they beat against his ears. He could feel the back of his hand tingling. The only thing between its light and the outside world was a pair of leather gloves, which now chafed between his fingers.

“Listen, buddy.”They weren’t Bokoblins at all. They were Hylains, roughed-up and visibly hungry. “Even if you can use a sword you can’t like that. So just drop the stuff, and we’ll give you the antidote. Sound like a fair trade?”

Antidote? Link’s side now thought it a prudent time to hurt. Link glanced down at his side. The cut wore a thin film of green. Link saw it. Link knew it. It took a second for the instincts to translate what he knew.  It was Like-Like spit, a nasty corrosive against organic material. Link nodded. There may be an antidote for this, but Link had never used it. Link just… died. It then became apparent to Link that dying in the middle of a field would blow his cover, and worse off, before he…re-gathered the pair of ruffians would have plenty of time to make off with his things.

Link sheathed his sword, put up his hands, and let the two draw close.

Then he punched one in the nose and ran.

 

Turn at the stones, don’t touch the straw hat, bow at the songbird that never sings-

Link crossed the threshold into the glade. Blood soaked Loamol’s robe. He saw her lurch to her feet at her towering height. Gannon was hastily put to the floor, his wide eyes like a doe. Loamol helped him out of the bags and set them aside. They could go through them later. She was asking Link a thousand questions and he couldn’t process any of them. She shouted commands at Gannon, but he was stuck. Link, though all of it, could feel her roll her eyes.

“Loamol.” He muttered. She gave him full attention with soothing words. “No, don’t… don’t worry about all of that. Just get me my sword.”

There was hesitance in her grip on him.

“Please.”

Death by Like-Like spit could take hours as it claimed the body, as it worked its way through. Link didn’t not like deaths that took a long time. It was easier to shorten the distance between falling asleep and waking up. He couldn’t see Loamol’s face but he knew the expression. He had seen that face of hesitance and acceptance on Zelda plenty of times. Loamol pushed Link’s sword into his hand and helped him into his hut.

“Gannon!” It wasn’t a command. It wasn’t a warning. It was a reaction.

Gannon had run into the Woods.


	5. Sons of the Wood

Gannon did not have a plan when he bolted for the wood. He did not know much about the Wood, in honesty. He only knew that he was not allowed in it, because he knew it was dangerous. He also knew that he didn’t like the Wood, or rather the Wood did not like him. However, for all his lack of knoweldge, he respected the Wood. The Lost Woods had somehow earned that from him, from a time before he was him. It was with this unknowing respect for the Wood that drew Gannon in. Papa was in trouble; he saw that with his own eyes. If anyone could help him, it was great and terrible Lost Woods. Gannon knew it, and he hadn’t stopped to ask why. 

The ‘Lost’ part of the Lost Woods happened rather quickly. Tall twisted trees by anoyone’s standards loomed over the little boy infinitely. The soil was soft between his toes, but also squishy like the stream. Then there were the eyes. There were the whispers. It was unusual to see a small child in the wood, and always a malicious treat. 

 

_ Aren’t you tired? _

 

_ Have something to eat. _

 

_ Poor boy, we’ll look after you. _

 

As his fear grew, so did his temper. As his temper grew, his hand caught the light and shed a brillaint threat through the darkness. Gannon had the great benefit, despite being a child, to not trust the Wood. He knew the Wood, like an ageless enemy. It wasn’t right, or natural, not like it pretended to be. The trees weren’t trees and the beasts were lost in the lie, at least until they died. 

 

“You don’t belong here, boy.” A soft orange light, veiling the tiny creature, hung in the air above Gannon’s head. “Go back to the glade where you are protected.”

“Papa’s hurt.” It wasn’t an objection, as it was a swollen thought. “The Wood has to heal him.”

The fairy, for that’s what it was, jingled like a bell that was dented. “The Wood has helped him. The Wood protects him, and you, and your filthy mother, and if he is hurt it is only what he deserves.”

“He could die!”

“How old are you, this time?”

Gannon furrowed his tiny, fat baby brow. He held up his hand. He stuck out all five of his stubby fingers. That’s how Mommy and Papa taught him. “I’m five.”

“Ohhh,  _ five _ .” The fairy taunted. “How does a child, only  _ five years old _ , know the tragedies of Death? Did you squish a worm, you fiend? Did you strangle a bird, and Papa scold you?”

“No-” Gannon didn’t hurt a bird, he couldn’t even catch one, but he couldn’t place why he knew what Death was. It was one of those things he knew, that he knew he wasn’t suppose to know. They were NightKnowings, Mama had said. They were the scary things that taught Gannon about the world before the world was ready to know him, she said. 

“Fatle!” There was a new jingle. “Thanks for finding him, now back off.”

Gannon looked over his shoulder. This fairy was red, sullen like the moonlight at its height. The fairy lowered itself down to Gannon’s height. “He is right though, kid, you gotta get out of here. If you fall asleep, you’ll get stuck here forever.”

“I don’t want that.” Gannon muttered. The fairy nodded ferverently. “But I’m not tired.”

“Not yet, but you are lost.” The fairy pointed out. They looked back at the orange fairy. “I thought I told you to buzz off.”

“I ain’t gonna be last to a meal. I got here first. You may be bonded to the twerp, but I am still getting my piece before the wolves come.”

“He isn’t dying in the Wood.” The red fairy turned back to Gannon. “Alright, kid. My name is Zeel, and I am your fairy. I’m gonna guide you out of this wood, you’re going back to your parents.”

“Papa needs help!” Gannon protested. “I am not going back without help.”

Zeel flew to Gannon’s face. He could now see somewhat inside the glow. There was a somewhat pudgey fairy in the light, with six wings like a fly’s. An upside-down triangle was burned into the fairy’s forehead, but the scar had healed a long time ago. While Gannon was taking in the fairy, the fairy was staring into Gannon’s eyes. 

“Tell me the truth.” Zeel said sternly. “Did you hurt him, Gannon?”

Gannon was offended. “No! He went out for three whole days, and when he came back someone had hurt him! He’s in trouble-”

Zeel visibly relaxed. He took a seat on the boy’s shoulder. “Lift up this hand.”

So Gannon did. The three triangles on his hand were glowing, but not as brightly as before. Gannon made some quick assumptions. “This… can save him?”

“No.” Zeel said quickly. He had forgotton how quickly thoughts can race. “But your ...father has this too, and it will save him. He’ll be-”

“Gannon!” The voice behind them shook the Wood. The boy’s head whirled so much that his chin caught Zeel and sent the fairy flying. Link stood with his sword, his proper sword, poised ready to strike, and his shield protected his side. His left hand was bandaged with fabric and leather, but still Gannon could faintly see the glowing beneath. Link was still wearing Loamol’s cloak, and though the tear in the fabric hung open, Link’s side was whole. If anything, it had a faint, shimmery line only a few inches across. “Thank the Goddesses, you’re alright.”

“Only three years and he’s almost as stubborn as you are.” Zeel laughed. Gannon was staring at where the wound should have been. Then he put up his hand and he felt it. Link was fine. Zeel took a seat in Gannon’s wild, ginger hair. “What’cha feedin’ him?”

Link sheathed his sword. “Fish, mostly.”

Gannon buried his face into his mother’s cloak, and Link scooped him up into his arms. Link and Zeel struck themselves a dull conversation. Gannon buried his face in Link’s shoulder. He sat on Link’s sheild arm, and the shield covered most of his back. He liked having his back covered against the Wood. He focused on staying awake while they were still in its borders. The idea of being trapped in them forever didn’t sit well with him. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dear Impa

 

I am sorry for all the heart attacks I gave you. 

 

I understand now.

 

Link

 

Impa burst into laughter. She folded the coded song into a pocket on her bosom. She needed the laugh, and the added news that they were well was a balm for both her and Zelda. For them, life was considerably harder. Zelda’s tutors were no longer permitted to see her. Instead, she recieved books and scrolls and materials from the guards, which were hastily written instructions. The council had moved to seperate Impa from her, but two things were apparent- the King and Queen were sternly against it, and the Royal Guard had no idea how to enforce it. The rule was written, but no one signed it. 

Zelda was not locked inside a crystal prison. Instead, she was kept within her wing. She had her bedroom, her bathroom and her study. She knew this was only because of her parents, who presented the case against the council that she had not committed a crime, and therefore did not belong in the prisons. The council disagreed vehemently, but with Impa out of their control they knew a prison would not hold her. The only way to keep Zelda in their territory was to permit her to stay in her quarters. 

This, for many Princesses, may have meant that they were bored. With nothing but school-work to occupy them, and perhaps singing, most Princesses would be staring wistfully out the widow. Zelda was no such girl. With her wisdom still a powerful asset, she was beseeched by the captains of the guards themselves. They would send her maps, positions, crisis reports. They would seek her guidance on how to control the waves of monsters that sprung up out of the soil with every Blood Moon. They sent her reports of battles with strategic importance. They sent along the requests of the people affected by the hoardes. With every wave of schoolwork came two waves of military and civilian reports. Zelda’s hand, which would cramp easily in the first months, now could write for hours without warming. The council, obviously, did not like this, but there was no arguing with results. Zelda had a mind for Warfare and Defense. The mewling from the council about her being a traitor, and eventually turning on her own people for the fluttering of a young girl in love, fell flat on the ears of the generals. 

As far as love was concerned, Zelda had no room in her thoughts for it. That, of course, only made her wonder about it. It had simply been assumed that Link and Zelda would one day rule Hyrule together, and that meant married. They liked eachother, sure, and they worked well together, sure, but they never felt like a couple. They felt more like- siblings. Zelda shuddered at the realization. Worse, she didn’t know how she actually felt about it. What if she did love Link that way? 

And then a new report came in. She studied the ravine where Wizrobes had been brewing their elements. There were no settlements nearby, but the ravine would fissure and threaten the Goron settlements in several month’s time. They didn’t have enough space around the ravine to bring the manpower to take out the Wizrobes. They didn’t have the resources nearby to fill in the ravine. If it was only one element, they could negate it, but there were elements mixed and intertwined and they were not confident in how to diffuse the energy brewing. 

“Link would just kill the Wizrobes.” Impa supplied over her shoulder. Zelda jumped in her chair and her hair fell over her exhausted face. “But that would not stop the elements from compouding.”

“Worse still, any other group would have a means nearby to control an outburst-” Zelda circled offshoots of caves and tunnels with her charcoal. “-but  a monster would be just as happy to see it go awry as they would if it went as planned.”

“Assuming they have a plan.”

Zelda wearily nodded. She stared at the map, let her thoughts drift to space. What would happen if this blew up in the Wizrobe’s face? Would the damage breach the Gorons? Her hand started sketching. How come this hadn’t gone up in flames already? What was keeping it stable? She traced the tunnels and the cracks. Something was syphoning the energy, or it found ways to diffuse within the ravine. If they could draw the energy out…

Impa watched as the charcoal scratched across the map. Zelda’s hand blindly reached about her desk, fluttering through books and papers by feel. She grappled with long fingers a heavy book. Impa supported the weight of the book until Zelda had brought it under her nose. She flurried through pages, tearing one or two. She stopped on a diagram on currents- undertoe and great swathes of sea. She squinted at the notes on storms and how they moved across the great waters. She peeled through mores papers on her desk, but her hand did not feel what she wanted.

“Impa…” She muttered. She could only handle so many thoughts at a time. “I…”

“What do you need?” Impa spoke softly. 

“Zora Domains.” She spoke into her textbook. “Waterways. Military Posts.”

Impa looked around Zelda’s study. It was a disaster, but one she had learned to navigate. She looked over the piles of military reports to find any mention of the Zoran Soldiers. She found several within the last month and scooped them up. She looked for maps within a fifty mile radius. She found several, some with handwritten notes, others coated in polishing wax. She brought the bundle to Zelda’s desk and one by one the Princess organized them into her vision.

Zelda’s hand glowed. Her vision blurred. Maps peeled together and shuffled apart. She could see the seas shift in their place on their maps, but their waters behaved like a painting. Reports and diagrams danced about their pages. The Wizrobes in all their madness danced in circles singing in a language that Zelda only heard at night. She dragged charcoal across the dream and she forced it to test her thoughts. 

“We cannot solve the problem.” Zelda whispered. “Not yet, at least. However we can study it. We can prolong it. If we station here, here, and-” she drew off the map on the margin, where another map suggested the mouth of a cave to be, “here, we can conjure submarine tempests, churn the aerocurrents to syphon the energy off the mass. If we are lucky, actual samples of the mass will break off for us to experiment on. I don’t know how much time it will buy us, but if we can spare a detatchment from... “ she pulled across all the papers to pull up another map, showing nearby towns and military posts, “here, then we can set traps for Wizrobes who will migrate in. If we can prevent their reinforcements, drain their energy, and study their weapon, we can diffuse it before Winter when the Earth cracks.”

Impa took up the maps and sheets and diagrams that Zelda was using to make her point. Zelda cleared the rest of her desk, pulled out a large scroll from underneath, and began sketching. She used large blocks to seperate the data; coloured lines to string it all together. 

Impa watched her busy hands work. She thoughts back, as she did often, to when Zelda was little. The young girl would stare with her empowered vision out the window, and beg Impa to let her help. ‘Let me do anything to help, please. I can’t just sit here and dream.’ With Zelda hard at work, protecting her people, Impa took a sigh of relief. If nothing else, at least Zelda had finally come into her own. 

“Impa I need more charcoal-”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Loamol held Zeel in her hand. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him. Gannon treated him like a friend, or a pet. Link treated him much the same, but Zeel didn’t seem to like it. Eventually, he got tired of her staring at him. 

“What, never seen a fairy before?”

“Not up close, honestly.” Loamol spoke softly. “Fey always fly off, or vanish, or get stuck in a bottle. You don’t seem like them, quite, however.”

“Ah,” Zeel smirked. “So you’ve only ever seen the unfed.”

That sounded ominous. Loamol wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more, but certain she was about to. 

“Until we get something dead to eat, we start to grow ourselves. Their wings start to grow in proper, and we develop a sense of self.” He explained. “But I am stronger still. Since I’m in a pact with Gannon, I have a part of him as myself.”

“My son is alive.” Loamol whispered suspiciously. 

“Yes.” He matched her tone. “But hair is dead. Nails are dead, in a sense. There is always dead skin. That is of no consequence. The bonding instead is in the blood.”

Loamol shot a cold look at Link. Link looked up, clueless to their conversation. She gestured to the fairy. He just stared. Gannon then looked up and looked at them both, now more confused. 

“Link.” she said sternly. “Did you harm my son to bond him to this fairy?”

Link now shot a cold stare to Zeel. The fairy cracked into laughter. Loamol had half a mind to crush him. Link sighed. 

“If you look at his forehead, you’ll see his branding.” Link gestured to Zeel. Loamol squinted to see the fairy’s head through the red light. Gannon nodded, having seen it himself. “After a fairy eats the hair of the person they are bonded to, they either have a branding reaction, or a dusting. If they brand, they’re bonded and the fairy gains some of the strengths of the boy. For instance, Zeel has greater magical ability than most because of the Triforce of Power, so his blessings and his flight have more… oomf. He’ll aslo have a longer lifespan, so that he may serve Gannon better.”

Loamol was not happy that a fairy was piggy-backing on the Triforce of power. “And what purpose could you possibly serve my son?”

Zeel was offended first- but looking into Loamol’s flaming eyes snuffed out his pride. Instead of an outburst, he reciteded his Oath. “I am his servant. I am his guide; I am his disguise. Until from his throne he does rise, I shall serve his side.”

Loamol pulled her face back, squinted a little, and then looked to her son. Gannon was pulling up the grass and putting it on the fire that Link was building. Zeel didn’t wait for her to ask the obvious question. He hovered over Gannon, shook twice and let loose a bunch of red light-glitter over the boy. She could not say when it happened, only that it had shifted, or perhaps changed immediately without any special effect. Gannon was different.

Or rather, in Gannon’s place was a young Gerudo girl. Her messy hair was braided into pigtails, which stuck straight up. She was still pulling grass. She giggled like a girl, instead of throwing the grass she dropped it on the outer stones, waiting for Link to use them. The changes themselves were subtle, hard to put a finger on, but complete. Then Zeel shook again.

From bronze skin morphed red scales, hair twisted into a tailfin, and where once sat a Gerudo girl was now a Zora boy. This dramatic change startled Gannon fiercely. He stared at his hands, which were now webbed, and ran to the stream. Loamol followed him, and so did Link. As Gannon ran his hands through the brooke, the water trailed around his webbed fingers as it would for any Zora child. Zeel shook again.

Gannon relaxed back into his natural self. He looked at his parents and then to the fairy. He didn’t have anything to say, but his face lit like stars. Gannon stared at his hands- the Triforce was glowing steadily. In his other forms, the Triforce was hidden. Loamol was notably impressed. 

“He will be able to hide in plain sight.” Loamol spoke softly. She looked to Link. “You thought this through.”

Link nodded. 

“Lady, that’s an understatement.” Zeel spat. “It took hours for Link to be able to craft these talents, and a whole lot of memories. As Gannon grows in power, so will I. I know you’re worried, but you’re not his first mother to be frightened.”

“Zeel.” Link interjected. “Mind helping him wash his hands? Gannon, show him how we get ready for dinner.”

The fairy bobbed, both in obedience and objection. Gannon led the fairy to the mouth of the brook where the Koi swam. The little boy could be heard telling the fairy how to use the water that splashed through the rocks. Loamol wasn’t sure what to say to Link, but his face looked heavy. 

“You are worried you should not have given him so much?” Loamol whispered. 

Link shook his head. Loamol could see it in his face before he spoke. Link was speaking as Himself the Hero. His voice echoed without overlap. “The ability to hide, to disguise, to change his shape- that has always been natural to Gannon.”

Loamol watched her son wash his hands, a by-product of splashing the fairy. “Then what troubles you?”

Link was silent for a time. He stared at the boy, or through him. Loamol wasn’t sure. “The ability comes from a dark place, is all. They are unpleasant to remember.”

She nodded. “May I ask of you a personal question?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to your fairy?”

Link snapped out of his thousand year stare. He looked at Loamol. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. He expressed his thoughts roughly with his hands first. He couldn’t phrase what he wanted to say properly. Then he shrugged.

Loamol didn’t catch all of his signs his hands made. She only knew the basics that they had been teaching Gannon to help him articulate and comprehend speech. She recognized a few, but only as conjunctions of thoughts. She didn’t catch their meanings. She nodded, understanding that he knew just enough to be unhappy. 

“I’m sorry I was hasty to judge your way of protecting him.” Loamol offered. Link hadn’t seen the apology coming. It softened his face with surprise. “I forget that you are not just a Hylian, and so neither is your culture. You are a son of Farore, the children often forgotton.”

Gannon ran back with clean hands, and Zeel deeply bathed. “Dinner?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Deep in the mass, which twitched and sparked and throbbed, cooked many rocks. They were not ores of iron or crystal columns. They were the remnants of ancient pillars, torn from their lost and broken places. They were pillars with a memory, pillars that with history and lore, told a story buried deep. 

The pillars recognized something in one another. Like a reflection broken, familiarity grew on them. As energy swirled about their shattered parts they soaked it in. Two pieces of pillar swelled under the mass enough that they touched. To the unawares, lightening struck from the ground and shattered in the heavens. The crack of its electric whip scattered the clouds. The bleed of its light hauted the heavens. The pillars pieced together themselves- itself, their true nature. 

First the tang, where the heart rang. 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Alright!” Link sat down each of his bags from the Zora’s Ice next to each member of the family. Loamol could already smell some of the more potent spices. She reserved some concern. “Now that things have calmed down, it’s time to look at stuff!”

Gannon had not seen new things in a long time. If it didn’t come from Hyrule Castle years ago, it was handmade from stuff they got from the Wood. This had raised him on a rather creative way of life, but he had been more excited for Link’s haul from the Zora than both of his parents combined. Zeel sat on his head, excited for what Link could have possibly smuggled back. Zeel, sensibly, had assumed that Link stole it all. 

“It seems you went a little… overboard.” Loamol did not say this as reprimand. She was more impressed that he managed to carry it all back. She too assumed that much of it was lifted. 

“There was a battle overnight,” Link glossed over the subject, “so there were plenty of Rupees to go around. Anyway, Gannon, why don’t you start with… this.”

Link had decided that, since he had Zeel, he might as well. He passed over the bundle of canvas fabric to the boy. Loamol saw the indentations under the fabric. Her shoulders rested with surprise. She cast a glance to Link, who only had his eyes on Gannon. As the boy unwrapped the fabric he saw the curved dual-swords in his lap. They had no edge, but they still had form and a decent balance. He wrapped his hand around one hilt, but his fingers didn’t reach all the way. 

His face’s brilliant expression changed to a somber rememberance. “They’re like the ones I used centuries ago.”

Link gave him a soft smile. “They’re not going to be as quality as your original pair, but it will be a good start.”

Gannon’s voice shallowed back to a young boy. He looked back to Link, a but more afraid than encouraged. “How come I can remember some things, but only for a second? I know I had swords like these, but I can’t remember using them, or what they really looked like.”

“You’re small.” Link chuckled. “Your head has a lot to learn, a lot to remember, and a lot to sort out. That just takes time. Learning your skills again will help. Can you figure out how to wrap them back up?”

Gannon stared at them in his lap with the fabric, and then shook his head. Loamol leaned over and took his hands in hers. “That’s because whoever sold them to your father did it wrong to begin with.”

With her son’s hands, she laid the blades respectfully on the cloth, then corner by corner she bundled them safely. Gannon looked like he was taking it all in, but none of it rooting. She tied it with a special knot, and set the blades by his side.

“Until you grow into them,” Loamol cradled his soft face in her hand, “I’ll start working with you on the basics. Form, stance, principle. For now, let us see into the spices you brought home, Link.”

Link nodded to the bag set beside her. It was the largest of the packs, and the most square. As Loamol undid the ties, she realized it was not a pack at all, but instead only fabric woven between milk crates. Each of the spices sat in a jar, measuring several ounces of dried spice. Thankfully, a neat hand had scrawled the names on the lid of each jar.

There was all-spice and za’atar, thyme and oregano. Some jars had nutmeg, others had cumin, smoked paprika and tumeric. As she poured over each label she breathed a sigh of relief. She found sage and sumac, rosemary and saffron. She held the saffron to her chest. She cracked open the lids on the jars and breathed in their many, home-calling scents. 

“Link.” She said softly, “You may need to place defenses at the Wood, for once we’re cooking with real food every creature will be pouring into the glade.”

“Actually,” Link reached into a tiny pouch next to him. “I might do just that. I got this book on architecture. Might try some of it out.”

They caught a fish, stoked the fire. Gannon asked Zeel a lot of questions. Loamol sorted the spices, Link planted the garden seeds. Dinner came together and as Gannon picked through the fish, Zeel ate up the bones. Loamol taught the boys about the spices she had used, weaving from Hylian to Gerudan tongue through her excitement. Link was quiet. He was in heaven. 

Zeel liked sitting in Gannon’s hair. It was soft, like a nest, and his light complimented the golden orange locks. He watched as Link and Loamol coached Gannon through being a person. Loamol taught him about Gerudo culture more, and Link taught him about living off the land more, but there was nothing about teaching him about being a King. 

Zeel realized, slowly, that they would have no idea how. He kept to his thoughts for much of his first evening. He had to figure out how to teach Gannon how to be Gannon- but not the old Gannon that Link feared. He also could not be the domestic Gannon that Loamol feared would not be able to protect his people. Zeel breathed in the power of the boy’s arcane ability. The trade-off, he realized, might not be worth it. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	6. Watering the Thought

Down the coursing river that carves through Hyrule Field, from its mouth at Hylia Lake to the Great Bay, the grasses are turning black. It’s a silty, muddy black. At the bay sat a girl eating her lunch with her gnarled, but spry grandmother. They had been gathering samples of the blackgrass all morning. 

“I am in two minds about this, Maple.” The grandmother said. “Either this will be all bad, and Hyrule will need an antidote-”

“Or it will be only mostly bad, and we can make a potent brew of it!” Maple shouted excitedly. She chomped into her sandwich and flailed her muddy feet. “Maybe we can use it to turn monsters into toads!”

The grandmother tilted her hat. “Why toads?”

“So they can eat all these dumb flies!” Maple huffed. “I don’t like it when they fly past my ear and make all that noise.”

The grandmother nodded. “Wait until you have a nose like mine, Maple. They fly right in.”

“Ewwwwwwww!” But Maple was laughing, and so was her Grandmother. The young girl would make a fine witch, in her own time. She had to admit, she had plenty of misgivings when her son arrived in the night unannounced. Things were said. Few of those things had been pleasant. 

I already raised a child and it did not go well!

 

Better a monster I know than a monster I don’t!

 

Desert this child here and she will grow cursed to never know your name!

 

Leave your own grandchild in the field to spill her blood then, at least I will be fighting to protect her!

 

And so after much shouting and swearing and bitter oaths, it was agreed that Maple would stay with her Grandmother while her father fought to defend their vulnerable village. She had to give her son credit as a capable healer, and devious trapmaker, but he was no soldier. They eagerly awaited his letters. With every letter they recieved, they planted a charm to ensure another would be coming. 

“Alright Maple.” Grandmother Syrup held up a bottle of the sullied grass. “Where do we begin with this brew?”

Maple stared at the crusts of her sandwich. She thought hard. “...Weeeee, uhhh… use a balancing thing. Uhh… grass is a plant, which means it should be balanced with… a fungus?”

“Good thinking, but before that.”

Maple scrunched her face. “Before…? Boil the water?”

“We clean it.” Syrup chipped. “Take up your bottles, and get your gloves. We have a lot of grass to clean, especially if we are to gently massage all the dirt from the roots.”

Maple groaned loudly with her whole being. “I don’t wanna cleeaaaaan. Withces are natural beings! We don’t need clean! We need dirt and roots and toads!”

Grandma Syrup nudged Maple up, and the girl shuffled off the blanket so that her dress took up another layer of dirt. Grandma picked up the picnic, rolled up the blanket, and left the basket for Maple to carry in. When she was finished with her playful tantrum she could come inside. Syrup had half a mind to prepare a waterspirit trap at the door. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Zelda’s face was turned toward the window. Her eyelids fluttered against sleep. She had been studying statistics of economics for hours. Every other thought festered with inflation and the endangers of hoarding within the populace. Her hair fell over her face. 

“Impa?” Zelda whispered, but she wasn’t in the room. Zelda closed her textbook and set it aside on the bed. She slid off the side to the floor. Stretching felt better than staring at the window. Zelda’s eyes traced the gentle curves of the Hylian stonework on her floor. “I want to study, I want to know all this, but it’s a lot.”

Zelda glanced at the back of her hand. It wasn’t glowing, and to be honest with herself she was grateful. She took a deep breath. 

“Alright. If I want to be able to focus, I have to sort out my thoughts and my sitaution.” Zelda told her floor. “I feel… overwhelmed, because I feel I have so much to learn, and… not enough time? No, that’s not it. I am fortunate that my parents are healthy and I can focus on my studies. Focus. That’s all I get to do- work on my studies. I have no other outlets now.”

Zelda turned to the soft, chalky blue stones of her walls. She took out her charcoal and wrote ‘no outlet’ on the wall. Good. Progress. 

“What outlets have I lost? I used to be able to study more… physically oriented disciplines. They were never my favourite, except for maybe archery and gardening, but at least it was a change of pace. I got to look forward to class and textbooks. So… I need to practice archery again? Or swordsmanship? Whatever, they get the point across.”

Zelda added both studies to the wall as notations under ‘no outlet’. Realizing that there was simply no room in her quarters of the castle, she added another notation of ‘???’. She breathed slowly. She counted her breaths. 

“I am used to having other people to diffuse the tension for me as well.” Zelda looked at the door. She had expected Impa to be silently standing in the doorway, but she was not. “I’m used to Impa being here.”

Her shoulders sank. She fell back on the bed. She knew what she couldn’t write on the wall.

“I’m used to Link being here.” She admitted. “I’m used to Link balancing my preference in classes with his. I’m used to having to accomodate him-”

And then she paused. She thought about how she spent her time in his company. It was usually to soothe him, to make him feel at home. Sure, they had fun together, but she was frequently spending much of her energy bridging the gap between his outdoorish nature with life in the castle. With him gone, she didn’t have to actively balance him. 

This was not a thought she wanted to think. She missed him, but she had gotten through more of her schoolwork. The excess of focus was speeding up her burnout, true. However, she was getting more done before the burnout hit. 

“Anyway, he won’t be coming back until he’s finished with…” What? He was not away sealing temples or fighting monsters. He was off being a parent. She was grown, and her parents were still raising and nurturing her to the throne! It sank in over the course of several minutes. “He’s… not coming back.”

She rolled over on the bed. A future without Link sprawled out like a vine, tearing down the brickwork of her expectations. Everyone’s predictions of what her life was supposed to be, what they told her it would be, came crumbling down. She wasn’t sure if this was a loss or a lifting.

“I… I will rule Hyrule alone.” Zelda said. Her hand fell on her textbook. Her exhaustion recycled into resolve. “And that means I have to know this stuff myself.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Link balanced Gannon’s hands while he held the waterpail. Together they watered the beans. Gannon shook the pail so that the water fell all over the place. They laughed together, and Link pulled the pail out of the boy’s loose grasp. He sprinkled the water over his head. Instead of rejection, Gannon snapped his fingers and Zeel bounced over his head. The young Gerudo boy magically shifted under the fairy’s dust into a red-scaled Zora boy. Link took the taunt well, and dumped the rest of the water over him. 

“Alright, fish-boy.” Link brushed the water away from Gannon’s face. “Help me fill this back up so we can finish the rest of the garden because, believe it or not, you missed a few spots.”

“No I didn’t!” Gannon-Zora laughed. “I got water everywhere!”

“If you mean everywhere as my boots, yeah.” Link bounced in his knee-high shoes and the two could hear the water squelching beneathing his heels. “Maybe if you give me a few days I might grow roots. Then I’ll be stuck in the garden, and you’re gonna have to do all the hunting and fetching and gardening yourself.”

“Papa, no!” The boy stomped his foot, but his face was still smiling. He hopped into the stream. The smooth silt on the bottom was soothing to stand in. Even the few stones were polished and cool. Gannon laughed from his gut, but the ringing of his laughter was hushed. The surpression of the noise fell hard on his chest. His grin sank into a grimace. The boy stared at the temple. 

“Sorry kiddo.” Link sighed. “I don’t like it much either, to be honest.” 

“Then why do we stay here?” Gannon didn’t take his eyes of the temple. 

“Because the same surpression that makes us quiet, also makes the wood peaceful. This is the safest place in the Hyrule.”

“Not for long.” Gannon whispered. Link felt a chill run down his fingers to his spine. The boy left he pause for too long, but then clarified. He clarified with many voices that made Link realize how Loamol felt. “When I am King, I will make the Gerudo Kingdom a prosperous, and peaceful place. We’ll have all the spices, and the soft fabrics, and the festivals will be heard from the valleys to the peaks.”

Admittantly, that was a good goal. Link breathed out his fears. “That sounds like a good place.”

Gannon nodded. He was quiet again. Link filled up the watering can. 

“Papa?”

“Hm?”

“What’s inside?”

“The Temple of Time.”

“Yeah. What’s in it?”

“Well, it is the Temple of Time, but the Temple of Time is also inside it. Kinda like… a Deku Nut. The whole thing is a Deku Nut, but the actual nut is inside.”

Gannon gave him a blank look as the thoughts tried to sink in. Link nodded. It was a weird answer to a seemingly simple question. 

“Mama told you about how the three Goddesses created the world, right?”

Gannon nodded. He had heard the story a lot. He had heard mostly about Din, who made the Earth itself and rose the Gerudo out of it.

“Well, right there is the last place they stood.” Link stared at the temple. “This is the place where they left, where the Triforce was first made, and the Temple has never forgotton.”

“Then why is it the Temple of Time, and not the… Temple of the Triforce?”

Zeel smiled. The fairy shook and dispelled the Zora likeness. “That’s because mortals named it, not the Temple. When people first tred on the space, the Temple itself tried to show them their history. It showed them another place in Time, and so that’s what they thought it was.”

Link set the watering can down. He tucked his hands under the boy’s arms and plucked him from the brook. He sat the boy on his arm and took a cloth from his hip. He cleaned Gannon’s feet, dried them, and then set him back on the ground. Gannon’s eyes were still fixed on the temple.

“Would it show us when Din was here?”

Zeel and Link shared a knowing glance. 

“We don’t go into the Temple, Gannon.” Link’s voice was firm, but his voice alone. “The Temple is kind and lets us live here, but we need to leave it be.”

Gannon rested his head on Link’s leg. 

“Okay, Gannon?”

The boy sighed, but reluctantly, “Okay.”

Link couldn’t resist lifting up the watering can and soaking Gannon again. The kid squeeled with laughter and they were both soaked before Loamol even looked up. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The Sergeant held himself a few inches above the horse’s saddle while they coursed down the hillside. He led his force away from the small, poorly defended village. His soldiers, forged with traumatic experience rather than proper training, were fewer in number than they were supposed to be. Much of his men stood sparsely scattered back near the village’s edge. What few soldiers he could take formed a ring around disguised researchers. To the monsters, it was a full platoon. To the monsters, they were a full force of Hylian Soldiers riding away from the village. The truth was that in the center of the riding company sat researchers, shaking under armour that did not fit them.

The riding party tucked into the hillside, but not in the ravine. Instead, they turned away from the road toward the Goron city. They slowed their horses. They readied their swords. 

“Remember what to look for, men.” The Sergeant commanded. It was words on the wind. His men were already searching the rocks for sigils. Their horses made their way into single file down a narrow road. It curved around a mountain’s base, under a precarious formation, and into the shade of the mountain. Grass petered into pebbles and dust. 

As they marched along the rockface, hidden caverns opened only when one was standing just in front of them, and after passing, went back into hiding. None of them were marked. Soldiers strained their eyes to see faint scratchings, or slight shifts in colours and light. Researchers were straining their ears, listening for the whispers of their equipment. 

She was not there, until she was. The Sergeant’s horse reared, and it took all the strength in his legs not to fall off. The other horses began to freak, but without anywhere to turn began to panic. As the startle turned to a crisis, there was the humming of a woodwind. She stood in the road with an instrument that sounded like the reeds of the river, and smelled of the banquet of the king. The horses calmed. 

“Forgive me,” she did not smile with her tone, “I forget the whitlessness of horses. Come, this is our pass. Dismount and follow.”

The soldiers did not see a path, much less a pass. If it was not for the countless hidden caves they had seen on the way down, they might have been more inclined to ask questions. They slid from their saddles. The researchers rubbed the inside of their legs. The soldiers whispered to them advice of what to do to soothe the ache once they had made it to camp. The Sergeant clapped once. The half-platoon organized themselves in single file, each paired to a researcher in front of them. 

“Some horses will go back to the Castle,” the Sergeant told the woman. “And some will go back to the town. Is that a problem?”

She stepped aside. “So long as they are seen without riders, they serve their purpose. Go inside. I wait for others.”

The Sergeant walked along the rockface. He could not see the crack in the wall until he was past it. Even so, it was barely wide enough for himself to pass through with his armour. He shuffled in with his shoulder. The walls pushed at his shoulder plates, but did not grind against them. The researcher behind him wore a deeply worried expression. 

The Sergeant forced a laugh. “Between a rock and a hard place, eh?”

“More like a rock and a rock.”

This got a hardy laugh from the soldier behind him. “I will gladly take two rocks over a fight with Impa.”

The woman nodded. “A wise decision, perhaps one made more swiftly.”

The men roughly agreed. It was a slow, pinched shuffle through the pass. They kept their grunting down, and did what they could not to tread on one another’s boots. Once they were through, they breathed.

On the far side hid a large cavern room. It was lit with a chandelier from the Castle. Banners hung on the walls and torches stood in the corners. Seperate chambers led to cots, to cookware, to empty tables. All of the equipment was spaced out in an arch around a gaping hole in the floor of the cavern. From the hole drifted a wind that carried the sound of the seas. 

“I take it these arrangements are acceptable?” Impa spoke in a deadpan, but her unaggressive posture was enough to suggest a gentle question. 

Most of the soldiers gave a firm thumbs up. They focused on settling the researchers and claiming their cots. 

“Thank the Princess for her attention to detail, as usual.” The Sergeant smiled. “This will go a long way for making this prison a home.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“I don’t care if it is vandalism or theft!” The guard captain cried. “I only care that we find who did it, and bring them to trial for defacing Royal Property!”

The Zora guards glanced at one another. They rubbed their arms with reluctance. They looked to the floor. One even started whistling. They punched him in the arm. 

“Well?”

“Well, I mean, is this really a big deal, right now?” The whistler, clearly with harder scales than his comrades, asked weakly. “I mean, we deal with actual problems on a daily basis. I feel like… some missing wall is not that… severe?”

The Captain rubbed the bridge of his nose. Of sinuses or stress, he was sure it was both. “If someone has taken a piece of the wall, they can figure out how it is made by testing it. They can figure out how to disrupt our entire home. Do you understand?”

“Yeah but…” 

“BUT. WHAT.” 

“They didn’t.”

“OH. SO YOU KNOW WHO DID IT?”

“I mean, no one knows exactly who, it was just a Hylian kid, but our wall isn’t in a lab somewhere.” The guard gestured to the field outside the southern gate. “It’s containing the elemental charge from that overnight hoard the other day. No one is reasearching it. No one will go near it.”

The Captain stared at his guard. He stared like a boy holding a glass over an ant. The guard shrugged, but didn’t break. 

“So let me clarify.” The Captain breathed deep and focused on keeping his tone even. It was not working well. “We know that a random Hylian, a completely unknown person, stole a part of our wall, and used it in battle, in a way that no one anticipated. Furthermore, it was effective.”

The guards nodded. They did this nervously. 

“Now,” The Captain’s voice started to crack. “You mean to tell me that no one, NO ONE, has any idea who could have done this?!”

“Well, I mean, there are a lot of Hylian fighters?” 

“And a lot of them have like, a variety of brown hair, or blond. Not a lot of black hair, I noticed. Less common, now.”

“Necessity is the Mother of Invention. I mean, that’s how we made this place, right?”

The Captain nodded. This was not a good nod. Other Zora were staring. The guards shrunk into their shoulders. They started to shift their weight, in case they needed to hide behind the whistler. 

The Captain lost his composure. “YOU WILL WRITE A REPORT, YOU WILL GATHER AS MANY DETAILS AS POSSIBLE, AND THEN YOU WILL SEND IT TO THE HYRULE CASTLE, AS REQUESTED BY THE MANY, MANY MESSENGERS THEY HAVE SENT.”

“But there’s no proof it was… yanno… Him!”

 

The Captain expressed his concerns in such a manner that he lost his voice for three days. That time was spent writing notes, decrees and orders. By the end of the week, the Zora Markets had rather strict, rather peculiar rules.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

In many abandoned homes wandered a plethora of cats. They were not accustomed to company, but the numbers of non-cat residents were growing by the day. Their Homekeeper, the one who had never left them, had opened her doors. She had done her best to explain her decision to her feline friends. The explination itself was lost on them, but they knew her heart. They saw the condition their new neighbors were in. Some cats warmed up faster than others.

Three girls, the eldest not quite grown, slipped through the maze of harsh mountain path. They stunk of travel, and wore their dusty, hastily brushed hair wrapped deep in fabric. They clung to the walls and their eyes poured over the open space before a single toe touched its dust. 

The Homekeeper sat on a stump in the center of the homes. She sat with a tea-set, and around her stood Gerudo women who were enjoying her tea. The women stood, and with the warmth of relief, they smiled. 

“It’s okay girls,” they said. “You can come in.”

The eldest stepped forward. “Are you loyal to the blood, or are you loyal to the people?”

The Homekeeper furrowed her brow in confusion. “Are they not the same?”

The women who stood around her stiffened. Disagreement cast their faces. No one spoke. The Homekeeper sighed deeply. She had hoped that there would be no division in her sanctum. The cats waited at the edge. They watched. 

“Ladies, please.” The Homekeeper spoke softly. “I cannot help if I do not understand.”

“She is asking if we are loyal to the crown.” One woman sat down beside the Homekeeper. She took the elderly hand into her own. “We may not be Hylians, but we just as much a part of the Hylian people as the Zora or the Gorons. Some of us, however, feel that the Gerudo should be their… own people.”

The Homekeeper nodded. She slid off her stump. She stood several feet shorter than the Gerudo women around her. She hobbled forth on her tiny cane. She walked past the women in tension, then she extended her hand. 

“I don’t know what is best for your people’s future.” the Homekeeper admitted. “But I do know that if you want to see it, you have to get there. You girls are welcome in my haven.”

Then the truth came from one of the Gerudo. “But they are Her Daughters.”

The elderly woman snapped her glare back. “Yes, I imagine they are someone’s daughters.”

The eldest girl stepped out from the mouth of the narrow pass and held her head high. “She means that I have a brother.”

This gave the Homemaker pause. “Is he with you?”

“No,” the girl replied. “I have not seen my mother since she fled the capitol. She told me to steal away my sisters and I obeyed. She told me to get them somewhere safe, but every time I have found a home that does not bare a sword against us, holds us accountable for their suffering.”

Some of the women hung their heads. Some of them only narrowed their eyes. The Homekeeper was too old for bickering family. Instead, it was the cats who settled this. 

An old Tom leaped down from a tall beam. He sniffed the girls’ feet. He sniffed their clothes, their shins, and then rubbed up against them. Other cats walked out from the shadows, from their spaces in the sunlight. They sniffed, they tested in their own way, and then rubbed up against their legs. 

“Well, there you have it, ladies.” Homekeeper waddled back and settled into her stump. She poured more tea. “The Village has spoken. Girls, feel free to explore. If the house has no name on its door, it’s not taken yet. Go claim yourself a place to keep.”

The eldest picked up the Tom. She petted him gently, and cried tears of relief into his fur. She thanked him for days, and she became his favourite.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The guard stood patiently at Zelda’s door. She brushed the hair from her face and looked up. Her eyes were tired, and so were his. He stood in salute, anyway. She nodded wearily. He relaxed his posture but did not step into the room. 

“Your highness,” he bowed shortly, “Link has been reported to have visited the Zora Trademarket. Apparently he fought in a battle that took place there.

Zelda narrowed her eyes at the guard. “Did they capture him?”

“Ah, no.” The guard looked down the hall. “Apparently he was gone before they noticed?”

Zelda closed her eyes. “What did he break?”

“The wall, apparently.”

There was a pause. Zelda stared at the walls of her room. How would he break a wall? She could imagine the damage. Maybe he bombed it. She could almost see the great holes in the Zora’s home...

“He uh, allegedly used wall shavings as elemental shields, if you were wondering.”

“Unfortunately, I was.” Zelda blinked. “But thankfully that’s not so bad.”

The guard nodded emphatically. They stood in a comical silence. They afforded a chuckle. 

“You worry, still?”

Zelda gestured widely to her textbooks. “I don’t have time.”

The guard nodded. “Then, permission to let you get back to it?”

Zelda nodded and the guard slipped down the hall.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


	7. Court Date

“No, I did not know he would be there.” Zelda stood in front of the council room. She held her shoulders back, her chin high, and her crown even. Over her hands she wore thin white gloves, and through them the triforce was not even visible. “I have had no contact with the fugitive for the past seven months.”

The council did not believe her. Her parents had their own thoughts, their own concerns. Zelda’s mind was less attendant that it ought have been, also. She did enjoy the flustered faces of the council, however. 

“Where is your guardswoman?” The council prodded. “We know she was close to the boy.”

“Impa is currently serving her countrymen on the Goron Pass.” the King of Hyrule’s voice echoed perfectly in the chamber. Zelda had always admired that ability, and in private, practiced it. “Your concern for the wellbeing of our people is sound, but your methods are venemous. I will not foster veiled damnations at this table. Instead, you will hear your queen speak.”

Zelda’s mother nodded her head in respect to her husband, and then stood. The council felt smaller when she did. She looked her daughter in the eye (perhaps a reminder not to forget herself) and then turned her stern, burning glare to the rest of the room. 

“It is apparent that he is acting.” The queen’s voice fell gentle like snow, but her tone chilled to the bone as hardened frost. “If the sighting is correct, then he is acting as an ally to the Hylian Peoples. From our knowledge of him, he can be… narrowminded in his actions. We must use this to our advantage. Intentionally or not, maliciously or not, knowingly or not, he has condemned his own countrymen to slaughter and suffering by his own hand. He must be brought to trial. A hearing is to be made, so that even he may understand the severity of his actions.”

One of the councilmen raised a hand to speak. The queen nodded to him, and so he stood. “While he has been sighted, he still has spent most of his time in hiding. He is presumably protected. How are we to bring him to trial? Do we flush him out?”

“No.” The queen smiled. Soft as her lips were, it made the room uneasy. “Our soldiers, our people, will not be made to suffer on his account. Zelda, you have never confessed his hiding place, so I am left to guess. Am I correct in thinking that he hides in the Lost Woods?”

Zelda opened her mouth, and shut it again. Zelda knew it was not hard to figure out- Link knew how to navigate the woods. Link knew he could not live near other peoples while raising the Demon King. The Lost Woods was not so much the best choice, instead it was the only one. Zelda nodded. “The Lost Woods guards his gate, but one cannot live inside it. There has to be a place beyond the Wood where he can rest.”

“He has corresponded by fairy, is that correct?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Then we will simply send him a summons.” The queen sat back down. The council broke into a flurry of rejection and commentary. She waited for them to get it out of their system. This took some time. Eventually, all of thier bickering formed into a single thought.

“He fled the castle.” One said, as a summery. “What’s to make him answer a summons?”

“He has had time to think,” she said, knowledge and experience in her posture. “If he is behaving as if nothing has changed, then it may stand to reason that how he thinks has not changed. He is a proud child, who thinks himself rather clever. From what I understand of the bearers of the triforce is that it is something they have in common.”

Zelda thought to herself that she was not that bad. Her mother raised an eyebrow from across the table. The Princess smiled back at her. In all their years, her mother had never denied that they were clever, only that it would get them into trouble. As usual, her mother had been right.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Loamol stood silently as Link gathered his things. He wore his armour and his shield under her tunic. He wrapped the Master Sword in a way that was not quite Hylian- inspired by the methods the Gerudo used to protect their blades. He packed a few scrolls, a newborn fairy in a bottle, and tied his subsitute sword to his hip. Outwardly, he looked like a researcher. Perhaps he was someone not to be trifled with, but not to be feared. She had learned a lot from watching him disguise himself over and over again. He thought from the outside in, and not the inside out. All of the pieces, all of the fabric, had a corner, a leaf that could be easily grabbed with his one hand and pulled away. She surpressed the smile at her lips- his one and only goal was to be as dramatic as possible. He would no doubt succeed. 

“Technically, you’re a fugitive.” Loamol spoke more to herself than to him. “Which revokes your citizenship, which means you have no need to answer a summons by the Court.”

“It would be in bad faith,” he muttered as quietly, “and a waste of a perfect opportunity.”

Her acceptance took its time getting to her lips. “I know.”

Then he looked at her with his eyes that were thousands. They were stern, not quite somber.  _ No. _ Gannon looked at them as the tension settled in thick. Zeel sighed, and flew into Loamol’s shelter where Gannon’s things lay. 

“I forbid it.” Loamol put her hand out to Gannon. The boy took her hand and she held him in her lap. “He stays here with me. He is my son.”

“They need to see him.” Link spoke with his many voices crammed into one. “My words will fall on deaf ears, but their eyes are more inclined to understanding.”

“I forbid it!” Loamol tried to shout, but the Temple compressed her volume into a hiss. Gannon pressed his face into his mother’s chest. He didn’t feel more safe. “I have done as you have asked, every day, staying in this prison. At the point of your sword, I mounted your horse and surrendered my safety and the safety of my son to your discretion. You, a Knight of my Enemy and also a child, I have obeyed. Now you ask of me this, to walk my son by the hand into their clutches, I will not abide.”

“It is not a matter of obedience.” Link replied. “This is about change. I swear by my sword that I will return him safe. If we do not return, then it is not unlikely that you will have a second son- and no one on this realm to stop him.”

Loamol looked at Gannon, his face still buried into her clothes. She brushed his hair with her hand. She pressed her lips to the crown of his head. Zeel came out of the tent with Gannon’s best clothes, a silken outfit made from the pattern. Loamol felt herself begin to cry, but unfurled her arms. Gannon looked up at her and she smiled. 

“I’mma be okay.” Gannon beamed up at her. “I promise.”

“You better be,” she forced herself to laugh. “Look after this crazy one for me?”

Gannon grasped as much of her in his tiny, still chubby arms as he could and hugged her. She covered him in her embrace. Then they let go. Zeel helped Gannon change, and then cloaked him with a few magical changes to look more like a girl. Link checked all of his pockets, took Gannon by the hand, and breathed deep. 

He knelt down, wrapped his arms around Gannon, and pulled out a Lyre. He began to play a song and light- resembling fairies but only as light, swirled about them. Loamol furrowed her brow, perplexed. Gannon was too dazzled to be frighened.

Then they were gone. 

Loamol sat alone in the glade. It was just her and the Temple of Time. Again.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The light gathered in the back room of the small, honourary Temple. The room was simple. It had no seats, windows high above, and a platform in the center. There was a stone sheath built into the floor, but it was empty. When the light around them faded, Link stood up. He gave Gannon a moment of silence to put together the event of musically warping from one place to aother. Link watched him rapidly go from question, to a lack of answer, to dismissive acceptance at an alarming rate.

“Where are we?”

“We’re in the Castle Town, Hyrule’s Capitol.” Link whispered. It was voulentary, honourary. “This is their Temple of Time.”

Gannon took another moment to rapidly descend from question to acceptance. This time it didn’t go as smoothly. “I thought we couldn’t go into the Temple.”

“Our Temple of Time, no. You’re right.” Link nodded. He felt it was important to tell Gannon when he was right. “This is a different temple, built to look like the real Temple of Time- but doesn’t have much power.”

“It’s not alive.” Gannon muttered. There were more voices to him than that of a child. “No… It’s asleep.”

“Right.” Link said, dismissively. He looked where the Master Sword would normally be, a slot in the floor, when not at his side. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to tell him everything at the moment. “Well, we should get moving. We have a ways to walk.”

“But my legs are wobbly.” Gannon protested. Link paused. Ah! Right. This was his first warp. Link had almost forgotton about that. 

“Sorry, kiddo.” Link knelt down. Gannon climbed up onto Link’s back, and shimmied up to his shoulders. Link stood up gently, but added a bounce when he stood up straight. Gannon giggled. Link took the boy’s ankles into his hands and Gannon rested on the top of his head, perhaps to mimic the fairy that slept on his own. “Alright, now we go.”

“Papa?”

“That’s me.”

“We’re going to the Palace, right?”  
“Yep.”

Link shoved his way through the doors into a vestibule, where people were praying. They stared with disbelief at a man with a little Gerudo girl on his shoulders. The fairy popped out of her brilliant hair to stare back at them. Link kept his face down. 

“The Royal Family will be there, right?”

“Yep.”

“Does that mean the Princess will be there, too?”

“I imagine she might be.”

“Is she pretty?”

“I think so.”

“More than Mama?”

“Hm. I think they’re both pretty.”

“Mama’s prettier than everyone.”

“Everyone, huh?”

“Yeah. Sorry, Papa.”

Link let out a hearty chuckle as they skirted the market. “It’s okay, I can be second to Mama.”

Gannon hugged Link’s face so that his tiny hands were a large moustache over his mouth and chin. Shoppers in the marketplace were bemused, perhaps uneasy at seeing a Gerudo child, but softened by the moment in play. Link turned toward the steps of the Castle. Guards stood watch. They drew their spears. They kept their eyes on the child that they could see. They looked for the face underneath. 

“No entry.” They spoke in unison.

“Hey, Jethro.” Link smirked. He lifted his face so that they could see it. “Kennan. Good to see you guys made it to the dull shift.” 

The two guards recoiled. The situation sunk over them like bird droppings. They focused their eyes on Link, but stole glances at the Gerudo girl on his shoulders. They weren’t sure what to make of it. They had a thousand guesses and they didn’t like any of them. They didn’t ease up their stance.

“I am here to answer a Summons.” Link spoke. Some of his extra voices slipped out. He breathed calmly, like he was teaching Gannon to do. “You know I need to enter the court.”

The guards pulled back their spears. They looked away from him. They didn’t need to tell him to enter. He marched his way up the stairs. 

“Papa?”

“That’s me.”

“Do you know everyone?”

“Hm.” Link glanced up with a smirk. “I just might. I may have memorized them all over my many, many lifetimes.”

Gannon looked at a bird in the sky. “That sounds boring.”

Link agreed. Most people were boring. He didn’t tell Gannon he was right this time. Instead he greeted each of the Guards by name as he entered the Castle. He didn’t use a shortcut. He didn’t sneak around them- even if it seemed too easy to do so. Gannon grew restless on his shoulders, so Link set him down. They held hands as Link lead him into the castle. He whispered into Gannon’s ear what to do if the Guards got mean. Gannon nodded, but he didn’t really understand all of the directions. Link only said please.

Sheikah guarded the inner palace. They didn’t speak. They only bowed to one another, like sparring partners. Gannon hid behind Link’s leg from their gaze. His hand glowed ever so faintly as memories raced into place. He couldn’t fit them into his thoughts.

“When I first moved into the Castle,” Link whispered into Gannon’s ear, “I wanted to be one of the Sheikah more than anything.”

Gannon didn’t answer him verbally, but his face scrunched with confusion. 

“They’re a special regiment of warriors, quiet as the night and as bold as the day.”

“Did you make it?”

“No.” Link said. He laughed. “They said I caused enough trouble.”

Gannon gave a small smile. Mama said that about Link a lot too. “It’s okay, Papa. I don’t cause trouble like you. I’ll be a Sheikah for you.”

Link watched their posture. They were solid like stone. They watched the little girl, who they knew to be disguised. They stared at the hand of a toddler. They were greatful not to speak, for they had a thousand things they would not say. Link only returned their worried eyes with a steeled, condescending glare. They let the two of them into the inner chambers where the Royal Family was waiting for them.

 

The hall where the thrones sat had the highest ceiling of the palace. It was gilded from floor to capstone with gold melted down from the Rulers long past. Stained Glass told the glorified tale of Hyrule’s bloody history, the love of the Goddesses, and a future of peace. 

The king and the queen of Hyrule sat in their thrones on the platform. The council sat at the foot of the platform, four to each side. Soldiers lined the gold and purple carpet that lead up to where the subjects ought stand. Sheikah stood in the four corners of the room, at each door, and one or two hid in the parapets. Link could feel the magic entwined about them. The whole palace stood at the ready. Zelda stood at her mother’s side. 

Link crossed his right hand to his left shoulder. He took up all the tabs of his humble wrappings- from the overcloak and the sword. He pulled them off in grand swoop. The browns and the dusty off-whites fell the floor like curtains torn from a window. Over Gannon, Zeel shook himself awake and bounced against the boy’s hair to dispell the disguise.

Link stood in his full armour, fully mended and polished, with the Master Sword gleaming at his side. Gannon, the true Gerudo Prince, stood in a traditional silk two-piece; bright red fabric with brass accents and buttons. He held Link’s hand, and the constrast dominated the grandure of the room. 

“I have come to answer my summons.” Link said flatly. Zelda rolled her eyes and prayed her mother didn’t see it. “How may I serve Hyrule?”

The Queen, more amused than anything, was glad to see that he did things exactly as she expected him to. It was nice to have a splash of flare in the castle again. “You brought a child.”

“A good babysitter is hard to find, your majesty.”

“That much is true.” The queen rose to her feet. The council begrugingly pushed out of their chairs in accordance with law. “Let us not stand on ceremony. It causes you to fidget. Approach the throne, Link.”

“What’s fidgeting?” Gannon did not think to whisper.

“It’s when your hands dance because you can’t stand still.” Link said, dropping several decibles and an octave. “Like your Catching Fish dance.”

Gannon nodded. “Standing still is hard.”

They walked up the long carpet, Gannon careful to only land his feet on the purple, and Link careful to keep his chin level. He kept his eyes on the queen. He did not look at Zelda. They knew how to read eachother’s faces too well, and that was not a silent discussion he wanted to have. Gannon’s eyes wandered from soldier to window to wall to carpet to soldier, but never to the Ruling Family. He gripped Link’s hand tight. 

They stood at the edge of the carpet where a thin podium waited. Link reminded himself that he had done this a thousand times. He had run into the room as a child three times a day to ask a question, Zelda at his heels. This wasn’t new. It was the same carpet, same podium, same family. It was Link who was different. He rest his hand on the wood. 

“Do you know why you were summoned?” The queen’s voice poured over him.  _ Do you know why I gave you a time-out? Do you know why you hit the target today, and not yesturday? Do you know why Zelda shares her notes? _ “Link?”

“No, your majesty.”

She hesitated. “Lying does not become you, Link.”

He lifted his head. “Do you ask what I know, or what I suspect? For I suspect that you drew me out of hiding, to provoke me to leave the boy and his mother undefended, to draw me into a place where you can cast me in shackles and have me hanged for the public, to force Zelda to speak while you who assumed sees me as her beloved, though fate has only thrust us together by force, or perhaps only to parade the authority of a council that waits in its guilded halls while their people are slaughtered-”

“Link!” Zelda lurched forward. She glanced around the room to see their reactions, to see her mother’s face, but no one was surprised by our out-of-place cry. Her parents did not cast a glance, no reprimand. She stood tall. “Be civil.”

“You don’t get to tell him what to do.” Gannon said. He said it in not one voice, but many. His hand glowed, and so did the hands of the others. “This is all your fault.”

Link picked up Gannon a few inches, and put the boy back down. The hands stopped glowing and Gannon blinked furiously. Zeel tumbled out of the boy’s hair and danced in front of the boy’s face. 

“What was that about, kid?” The fairy chimed. The king and queen stared at the fairy, then at Link, who was too busy looking at the boy. “The princess is a bearer, just like you and your Pops.”

“Sorry.” Gannon spoke into his silks. 

Link bent down to his knee and turned Gannon to face him. “Thank you for your apology. I need to know why you said what you did.”

Gannon was quiet a minute. Several things became apparent to all present in the room. First, that Link was genuinely serious about raising a decent child out of the Demon King. Second, that Zelda was still glowing; her eyes racing. Third, that the child Demon King had just apologized for speaking out of turn. What was also apparent to the king and queen was that a fairy was bonded to the boy, and that Hylian history was about to be vigerously shaken. The Sheikah were listening.

“Uhhmm.” Gannon rubbed his tiny fists against his forehead. 

“Does it hurt?” Link looked about Gannon’s face for signs of stress.

“Just a little.” Gannon tried to lie, and though it fooled the court, Link saw the tension around his ears. “It’s hard to remember because it’s far away.”

Link nodded, scooped up the kid and rest Gannon’s head on his shoulder. He rubbed the boy’s back. Zeel nestled back into the boy’s hair and hummed a haunting lullaby to soothe him.

“If you don’t know why you were summoned,” The king leaned forward in his seat, “then what did you hope to gain by attending?”

“I need the Library.” Link looked the king in the eye. In truth, this chilled him. Even when he lived here, looking the king in the eye made him squeemish. However, he knew courage was vapid without fear, and there was only one person in this room who could frighten him. “I need to be able to enter and exit without detainment, to research our history.”

“Oh, the very thing we tried to teach you while you were under our care?” The queen settled back into her seat. “It’s strange, almost as if we told you it was important; yet you only wanted to play with swords.”

Link expected this reaction. He had prepared for this. He did not close his eyes, he did not exhale- no sign of frustration. “As interesting as King Julou’s exploits are for architecture, with his… weird waterspouts, may be- I am not looking for recorded history.”

“You want to know the beginning.” Zelda muttered. She looked for the expressions of her parents. They gave her their attention. Link still looked to the rulers. “What we have are several written editions of the oral traditions, relics of our ancestors, and recreations of monuments and artworks left behind by those before us. I have long researched the start of the Triforce, as every incarnation before me has. The Royal Library is vast, but even with my gift it is… hazy.”

“I know.” Link nodded. “That is because Wisdom looks to the future. Courage looks at the present.”

“Do you suggest that Power looks to the past?” the King narrowed his eyes. 

Link shrugged. Gannon’s head lobbed to the side, nestling under his chin. “I have never held the Triforce of Power myself, but this kid has some vivid, haunting nightmares. Sometimes he remembers who I am to him, and sometimes I’m just Papa. It’s… worrisome. I was hoping that with some of those works, I could piece parts of history together with what he sees, get a better picture.”

There was a general murmur of concern. Some mentioned the idea of having a traitor in thier military records. Some others replied that he grew up there. The guards were largely quiet, but the council chattered on. The king listened to their arguments as they flew about his feet. The general consuses boiled down to it being a foolish idea, traslating Hylian History from the babblings of a tiny child. 

“Is there no other option?” Zelda asked. She cast a knowing look to Link, and he did not like it. “No other methods to discern our future from our past?”

“Not without great risk.” Link said it like a reprimand. 

Gannon lifted up his head. “Papa says we’re not allowed in the Temple.”

Link put his hand, gently, to the back of Gannon’s head. He scritched at the flaming red roots of his hair, soothing the boy back to rest. The council stared at Link. The king sat back in his seat. The gig was up.

“We suspected that was where you were hiding.” The king dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “However, we are surprised that you have forbade its use.”

“It is unsafe.”

“You survived it, as a child not much older than the one in your arms.”

“Not the first hundred times, I did not!” Link spat. Realizing it was not smart to yell at Royalty, in any cercomstance, he immediately lowered his eyes and his voice. “The Temple of Time is not akin to the other shrines of Hyrule. The monsters there are only habitants, happy tennents of its unique environment. The Temple of Time is alive. It  _ is _ the beast, and those within it are under its Authority. It knows it is above us, and not remiss to remind us of our ignorance.”

“Can it, or can it not, show us the beginning of the Triforce Bearers?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Loamol stared at the dark, hallow trunk that lead to the Lost Wood. It had been the better part of the day and he had not even sent a fairy. She stitched fine threads into silk clothes for herself. She had spent hours on fabric, and her hands were cramping. She pinned her needle into a corner and wrapped it up into a basket. Her arms fell loose in her lap. She looked at Gannon’s pillow seat. He should be home with her, not out in the damned capitol. He should be with her, learning of his people and his future, not in the clutches of her enemies. 

“I don’t know how much more of this I can suffer,” she said. “We should be among our sisters, raising him together, not trapped in this cage. I cannot do this alone.”

She cast a glance to the gate of the temple. Tall, humming doors paid her no mind. It was not even a proper building, with walls and a roof. All that was left of the fabled structure were pillars that held up the weight of the world itself. Doors stood without frames, and crumbled steps held their debris in place. The Temple was indifferent to her pleas. 

She had fought this temptation a thousand times, and she would fight it a thousand times more.  She tended to the garden. She tightened up the stones and turned the soil at the fire pit. She cleaned leaves from the stream. She talked to the fish. She looked back to the temple. 

She got to her feet, dried off her hands and walked up to the steps. “I have heeded his words because I know the threat he spoke of is real. I have resisted because he had done all in his power to uphold his word- but my questions remain. There are things he cannot answer, with all of his experience. I need your help, great Temple. I beseech your knowledge, knowing that my safety is not assured.”

The gilded doors ground their edges against one another. They opened. She had expected a light, a holy sunbeam from within. Instead, there was the wavering image of stones layered over wood, like illusions over the glade’s soil. Where there panels here once? Was there a floor of stone, long ago? Was it still there? Loamol walked up the steps, and even where the debris floated her footing was steady. She tested the wavering floor through the door, and her foot found steady ground. The gerudo woman walked into the temple.

The doors did not shut behind her, and she was rather grateful for it.

The Temple rembered what it looked like, once. The glade was lost behind tall walls of marble, where strong boughs of ancient trees grew through the stone like rivers over the earth. Stained glass flickered into place as each ray of a long gone sun poured through. Colours scattered like rain on flagstones. It was a beautiful place. Loamol’s soul mourned for the decay of the Temple. 

At the end of the entry hall, a pair of doors identical the ones outside waited for her. In front of the doors stood a woman. She was clearly Gerudo, but her face had no features. Loamol, understandably uneasy, touched her hand to her chest in greeting. The face-less figure did the same, at the same time as Loamol.

“Oh, that’s me, isn’t it.”

The hand covered where its mouth should be, and the shoulders bounced in mimicry of a giggle. The model aged rapidly until the woman turned to dust, fell the floor, and reformed into the young Gannondorf. Loamol was not amused by this. The Non-Gannon held up his arms, begging to be picked up. 

“I imagine you had a great deal of fun at Link’s expense.” Loamol folded her arms. The boy shrugged, then giggled in the same silent fashion. She looked at the doors. “May I ask you my questions, or do you already know them?”

The doors opened up. Now the light poured out at her feet. The stained glass windows behind her melted in a heat she could not feel. The walls turned to dust and the trees withered. Blinding sunlight conquered over the beautiful space. The boy held out his hand to Loamol. She took it, and he dragged her through the doors. Loamol thought to herself that what she saw in the Temple would give her nightmares for weeks. 

The doors behind her shut.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	8. Temple Spirit

The Temple of Time, pretending to be young Gannon, led Loamol down a long ramp of golden sandstone. The edges of the ramp ran loose, sand flowing down the sides like an hourglass. The floor reflected light like jewelry. Pedistals as wide as Loamol’s shelter rose out of the stone like monoliths. The sand that fell over their edges turned to glass at the bottom and then to gold itself. A keese flew about in the upper corner, paying no one any mind. Loamol watched the room, taking it in like a mountaintop view. 

TempleGannon had no face for her to read. They walked with a graceful waltz, keeping time with the sliding up and down of the pedistals. After a few measures of waltz, there was a note. It was played on the hum of a breeze, and then on an instrument of brass. It was followed by the voices of women. The voices focused into lyrics in the Gerudian tongue. It was an old hymn, no, a celebration, that Loamol had not heard in many years. 

Gather your baskets

Your pots and your pans

The rain is coming

The rain is coming

 

Roll up your furs

Lay out your fibers  
The rain is coming

The rain is coming

 

The cold of the night

Makes way for the morning

The sleeping serpent

Awakes unwanting

 

Winter is ending

Summer is blooming

Sisters rejoice for

His reign is coming

 

Mirages of women dancing about the pedistals flickered in the light. They wore the garb of many different eras, but they all eeriely looked the same. Their hair fell the same way on their shoulders, and their feet always a little too big than Loamol liked. It wasn’t a big mental leap- it was the many different incarnations of her. She watched herself circle through time, through incarnations, through the many ideas of Gannon’s mother. Then she noticed that over time, as they became more recent, they jumped less. They threw up their arms less. Their voices were quieter. 

The song ended and the mirages stopped dancing. The oldest of them turned it’s faceless head toward her. In order of time, the many mothers turned their heads to stare at Loamol. Then they threw up their arms and pointed. An entire room of faceless women pointed at Loamol like a condemnation.

 

YOU HATE OUR SON?

 

“No!” She protested. “He is my blood, my baby, my spirited cherub.”

 

HE WAKES IN THE NIGHT, EYES AGLOW, SILENTLY SCREAMING.

 

“He is tormented by his troubles, by the suffering of our people.” Loamol looked at the Temple’s mimic of her son. She brushed back the hair, a gentle stroke against his cheek. “I would not wish his plight on anyone.”

 

YOU DO NOT THINK OUR KING IS YOUR SON.

 

“There is no denying he is the King Gannondorf. It is in every part of him.”

 

YOU LIE.

 

Loamol could not protest. She knew that she lied. She couldn’t phrase it. She could not put it into words into her own tongue, or in Hylian, though she knew the feeling well. She had known the feeling since she felt him kick in her womb.

 

YOU LOOK AT YOUR SON AND SEE A DAUGHTER THAT THE TRIFORCE HAS EATEN. YOU LOOK AT HIS EYES AND SEE AN INNOCENT CHILD, POSSESSED. YOU TELL YOURSELF THAT GANNONDORF IS NOT YOUR SON, NOT YOUR CHILD, ONLY YOUR BURDEN.

 

Loamol got down on her knee to look at TempleGannon. She took her thoughts apart. She knew this was the question she wanted to answer. “I do not want to feel this way. I want to love him unconditionally as a mother should. I never felt this way about my daughters.”

 

YOUR SUSPICIONS HAVE HISTORY. YOUR FEARS ARE REMNANTS OF MEMORY. DO YOU WANT TRUTH, OR COMPLACENCY?

 

“I… I want peace.”

 

THAT WAS NOT A CHOICE. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“From my experience in the Temple of Time,” Link spoke slowly to ensure every word was heard clearly. “It will answer questions. It can show us history, but it doesn’t enjoy doing it. Instead, it will give you some nightmare, or judge you for some things, and then leave you with an ethical question no one knows the answer to.”

Zelda furrowed her brow to think. To her, that sounded more like fun than a trauma. She realized that she was part of the problem in this thought, and additionally, Link hated using his brain for philisophical questions. Apparently she was not the only one thinking these things. 

“We fail to see how this makes the temple dangerous.” The king leaned back into his throne. “There is more to this, we assume?”

“Naturally,” Link replied. “The temple lures you in for answers, like a siren, and then when you think you’re going to get your answer, it decides to test you. It tests you with beasts in its thrall, yawning chasms and even stealing from the protective measures of other Temples; the temples that have fallen and also the ones that are yet to be built. I have seen beasts die to my trials, dissolve into sand, and be ressurected in tormented form- unsure if it is alive, dead or otherwise.”

“Comforting.” The queen smiled. “This may yet serve as a provident opportunity.”

Link furrowed his brow this time. 

“We will ajourn this trial on the morrow.” His majesty boomed throughought the room. “Council will be met to deliberate the events of the trial, and the consequences thereof. Link and the child Gannondorf will be detained below, all provisions met.”

Link squinted. “I do not resign to being detained.” 

“You are a known criminal, who has admitted in full view of the court of their crime,” he said, “and therefore surrender your autonomy to the court of law and the Hylian throne. Your resignation is not required.”

Link set Gannon down. “And of the boy?”

“The boy is neither a citizen nor able to speak for himself, but already a threat to the safety and stability of our people.” The guards dropped their spears and closed in behind Link. The Sheikah drew their blades and crouched at the ready. Zelda summoned a spell to her hand. “We have been more than courteous, and you will comply.”

Link set Gannon on the floor. Zeel flew in front of the boy’s face to rouse him. Gannon blinked and rubbed his eyes. Link bent down and kissed the boy’s forehead. “Remember what I said before?”

Gannon looked around the room, and generally unhappy with it, nodded. Link handed the boy the Lyre. It was a bit big for him. Zeel cast Link a worried look. The king got to his feet.

“Link, what are you doing?”

Gannon held up the Lyre, and Zeel, swift as the Triforce could make him, plucked at the strings. A rushed tune rang from the harp, and on the last note the fairy dodged back into Gannon’s hair. Light swirled up around the boy. Gannon looked up to see Link through the dancing lights, drawing his Master Sword. 

“Papa, no!”

Gannon was gone. Zelda cast her spell. Link howled as the light seared his eyes. Blinded, he pivoted toward the guards and parried the spears that swished by his shoulder, The guards shouted to obscure the sound of their spears. Link kept his sword to their polearms- for their training was his advantage. 

He could not anticipate for the Sheikah, who downed him in a blow. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Gannon fell, with all the glittering lights, into the water. He had not been prepared for this. His shout let all the water in. He flailed, but never having learned how to swim, made little progress. Zeel worked furiously to bring the boy to shore. He could not do it all. He bounced against the boy’s face and turned him to his Zora self. The fairy fought to get the boy to open his eyes, not to panic, so he could start to breathe the water as the Zora do. He couldn’t do it all. As the boy fought against drowning, he dropped the lyre.

Gannon opened his eyes just to see the lyre slip from his grasp and plummet to the bottom of the lake. He pushed back up to the surface to breathe. Once his head was above water, he noticed that he did not need the air so much. Zeel popped up out of the deep ripples beside him. 

“We have to get that back!” Gannon gasped. He caughed up the water he swallowed. It was salty, but only a little. “Come on!”

Zeel pulled on the tail on the back of the boy’s head. “Oh, no you don’t.”

“But-”

“There are monsters everywhere, Gannon.”

“But-!”

“Leave it! We won’t be able to find it with our eyes alone.”

“You glow!”

“I also can only breathe air. I can change you, but not me.”

“So… we need a bottle?”

“A weapon would be nice too, since, as I said before, there are monsters down there!

Big ones! Ones your father would be remiss to fight again, much less a boy with no more experience than a sparrow.”

Gannon looked about the water. “This isn’t the Temple.”  
“Oh, you noticed?”

“Why didn’t Papa send us home?”

“Maybe because that is the first place they would look for you?”

“The Wood and the Temple protect us.”

“Apparently your pops has other plans.” Zeel rolled his eyes. “Listen, there’s the shore. And there’s the old, creepy house. Considering it is the only house, I suspect that’s the one he told us to go to.”

“I don’t want to do this. I want to go home.”

“That’s the problem with Destiny, kid. It usually does not care what you want.” Zeel dropped into the water and held out his tiny, glowing hands. “Now, to swim to shore, you gotta kick your legs behind you and move the water away from your face like this- yeah, you got it. Come on.”

“Granna?”

“Yes, Maple?”

“There’s a baby Zora in the bay.”

Grandma Syrup picked up the length of her dress and ran down the steps as fast as her spindly knees could carry her. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Are you sure, highness?” The guard leaned on his spear while Zelda put her rapier to her hip. She put on gloves that protected her hands better than the dressgloves of her courtroom attire. “He is dangerous.”

“If it comes to a battle, I have already lost.” Zelda pinned back her hair with a simple clip. “Also, I have need of you elsewhere. Ride out to the pass. Tell Impa what has happened today. I dare not send it by letter.”

“Am I to bring her back?”

“That is her decision.” Zelda nodded to the guard. He bowed deeply. “Her position with the research team is equally as important. I do, however, want you to return as swiftly as you are able. Good help is hard to find.”

The guard found himself blushing a little. “Please be careful, Princess. Perhaps, given your prisoner, you can afford to be more adamant.”

She dismissed him before he clarified the thought. She did have some steam she wanted to blow off. No, violence would do no good. As a formal prisoner, he was just as much under her protection as he was in her mercy. Zelda sighed loudly. Laws on how to treat prisoners and captives of war flooded her thoughts like white noise.

She notified the guards as she passed them that she was going to speak with Link. She told them that she had no intention of letting him out, and that if he did escape, they were to sound the alarm and nothing else. He had caused enough harm, and she did not want her guards playing to be heroes before their time. It was a surprisingly long walk through the dungeons to find him. 

Link was slumped against his cell wall. He did not sit on the bench or the cot that was provided. For whatever reason, he was only wearing one boot. The other was kicked across the cell. He looked dead, honestly. 

“Good evening,” Zelda curtsied. She wasn’t sure what she expected. 

Link rolled his chin upward to see her face. He laughed with sarcasm. “Yes, hello.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have a beard the length of the sages, by now.” 

Link tapped the back of his head against the wall. “The mother does not like them.”

She breathed in. She could have asked a thousand more gentle questions, but instead she cut to the chase. “Are you involved with her, romantically?”

A smile that bore his teeth, a hiss. “I am raising a toddler, one who can actually kill me, and who frequently suffers nightterrors. Even if we were inclined to be-” he lazily flapped his hands about in mockery of polite terms, “-romantically involved, I would not have the energy to do so. So no, I’m not cheating on you.”

There was a long moment of awkwardness. It wasn’t as long as either of them actually believed. Seconds felt like minutes, but there was still not enough time to cram years worth of catching up into. 

“So what have you been up to?” Link asked. It sounded genuine. 

“Studying.” Zelda sighed. She wished there was more to it. Aside from helping plan a war, there wasn’t many details to add. She figured she might as well out and say it. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He said, finally. “You?”

“More or less.” Zelda muttered. Link nodded in acknoweldgement. “I came down here to ask where you sent the boy to.”

“I sent him home.”

Zelda didn’t smile. “Stop trying to lie. I know you didn’t send him to the Temple of Time, it wasn’t the right song. I know the lyre doesn’t have a warp inside the castle, and you’re too protective to send him straight into the Market. That means you sent him to another temple, anywhere in Hyrule, where Monsters are prowling freely, on the doorstep of one of the most dangerous places to be.”

“What’s your point, Princess?”

“Don’t ‘princess’ me.” she snapped. It felt better than she wanted to admit. “You always complain that you never got to have a childhood, but you’re going to do the same to him? Perhaps the one of us who needs a childhood and stability the most? Or are you hoping he dies out there?!”

She expected outburst. She expected him to try and sign and talk at the same time. Instead he pushed himself up against the wall to sit up straight. He folded over to lean on his lap. He wiggled his toes- his un-booted foot was cold. 

“She’s going to be furious, you know. She didn’t want us to go.” Link said. “I wasn’t exactly kind about it, either. I’d like to send her a letter, if possible. Let her know her son won’t be home for a while. He’s… safe as he could be, at least. In good claws.”

“Claws?”

“Yeah, her hands are so bony I used to call them claws. She used to joke that if I didn’t pay up for damages, she’d cook me alive and feed me to the monsters.” He pitched his voice high to mock the old woman. “‘The beasts will pay pretty for the meat off your bones, you mongrel! I could make a single bowl of soup and retire!’ A great woman, honestly. Screwd as a Deku Scrub and tough as talons.”

“Dear Mother of Gannon, your son isn’t coming home, the Hero sent him to live with a madwoman. Also, we arrested him, he is facing the Death Penalty. -Zelda.”

Link rubbed his hand into his forehead. “Yeah, that’ll do. Thanks.”

“Anything for a friend.” Zelda felt that it was time to go, but her feet didn’t move. She just stared at him, looking pitiful, locked in a cell. He had no sword, no bow, not even a stick. They had stripped him of much of his armour. 

“Thank you, by the way.” He muttered. 

“I didn’t send it yet.”

“No, not that.” 

Zelda nodded softly. It was her supplies that got them through the first year in the glade. They knew they couldn’t say it aloud. “Right. Well, you’re welcome.”

Zelda peeled herself away. She marched down the hall, keeping her chin high. She didn’t want to think about how he wasn’t even trying to escape. She didn’t want to think about how she wasn’t sure what to do. Law said that his justice was death. He could die, and then he could leave. It was easy. It was simple. He had already accepted it, and yet somehow she could not. Perhaps because she feared they would not follow the letter of the law. 

Send the letter first, she thought, and then everything else. One thing at a time.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The council, for once, sat quietly. They had him in their clutches, and the boy was simply whisked away. They had to think of him as a boy now. They saw him, ready to fall asleep in Link’s arms. They thought to themselves about how to handle the problem, but instead of ‘killing’ or ‘executing’ the Demon King, they subtly changed it to ‘sealing away’ or ‘banishing’. It was the same thing. The body would die and the soul would be imprisoned. The Master Sword lay on the council table. The handguard, the wings of the sword, were folded againt the handle. It made it difficult, if not unruly, to weild. 

“If we give Link the death penalty, he walks free,” one of the council finally said. They stopped thinking about Gannon for a moment to think about Link. Deep in the dungeons, Link kicked off his other boot. The council just stared at the sword on the table. “Even if we execute him publicly, he will only heal for all to see. It will do nothing for the comfort of the people.”

“Can we reinstate him to do his job?” another asked. “If he can go back to defending the people, then he can work to regain their trust while protecting the villages that we are too threadbare to defend. Pehaps their distrust will keep him on better behaviour.”

“How can we trust him to obey?”

“We keep the child and mother captive.” The council smiled, proud of himself. “We ensure that he is taught proper respect for the throne, and then we have Link at our behest. When the boy is older, we then have all three pieces of the Triforce under our control.”

“That sounds too easy.”

“Having him brave the Temple of Time for us, to seek out our history, is an opportunity we will not see again soon. We could learn much, and advance much of our culture with it.”

“Then it’s agreed.” One stood to his feet. “The Death Penalty is not a suitable sentance. The people would benefit more, and the punishment more fitting, for a sentance of service.”

There was a general nodding and murmur of agreement. 

“We do not know where the boy is.” A fair objection. “But we do know where the mother is waiting. We only need navigate the Lost Wood.”

“Yes, only pry open the maw of death and tickle it’s throat.”

“The Kokiri learn to do it as babes. Surely grown men can learn.”

“And risk thinning our forces elsewhere? No, that only puts our civillians at risk. He will choose to bring them here, and then he will serve the crown.” Zelda strode into the room with her head high, her rapier still at her hip. “It is the wise thing to do.”

The council looked at one another. Then they looked to the king and queen. The ruling couple looked to one another. Details were deliberated. A decree was written up. The council and the crowns signed the decree. The council cleared out. Guards were sent to fetch the prisoner.

“What do you have up your sleeve, dear?” the King grinned. “It is unlike you to act so boldly.”

“A plan for a better Hyrule.” She curtsied low for her parents, and then took her leave. They nodded to one another. This was going surprisingly well, all things considered. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The guard rode out with the wind at his back. Two days rations and a mapscroll hung from the saddle. The shordsword hung from his hip, but he rode with one hand on the reigns and his other on his spear. He owned a standard issue bow, but he wasn’t good enough with it to warrent shouldering its weight. He drove the horse at a steady canter. He could feel the bruises forming already. 

Like locusts he saw them. They surrounded the village, snickering, waiting for the sun to set. Smoke rose from cookspits like Hylain soldiers, but the meat was larger than any man could stomach in one meal. Bokoblins cackled, some even in their sleep. His horse slowed. The horse knew that he could not ride past them. It stopped a good distance away. 

“I can’t fight them all.” The guard muttered. The horse paid him no pity. “They’ll ransack the town at nigthfall. Where are the guards?”

He reached into the saddle for the mapscroll. He poured over it. There was supposed to be a platoon here but- no. He was close to the caverns. All the military postings would be guarding the researchers. There would be almost no one left in the town. 

“There’s no way that you can warn the research base, is there?” He asked the horse. “Of course not. You’ll only run to the castle.”

He paused. That would have to do. He took down the rations. He picked up some dirt and spat on it. On the back of the map, he wrote S.O.S. Then with the mud, he circled the town. Grossed out by his own resourcefullness, he wiped his hand on the saddle. He tucked the map into the saddle so that it flapped in the wind, secured. With adrenaline, he slapped the horse’s flank. The horse replied by nipping at his helmet. 

“You know what I meant! Go!”

The horse blew hot, steaming air into his face and turned about. It started with a trot, then the canter, and when it was feeling the wind on its face, it broke into a gallop. The soldiers at the gate would handle the rest. The guard stood alone in the field, barely hidden from the entire force of Bokoblins camped on the horizon. 

“Right.” He whispered. “Okay. A plan. I need help, and I need a plan. Alright.”

He knew where the pass ought to be. He could point to it on a map, the one he sent off with the horse. In practicality, he knew the general area of where he was going. He told himself he would know it when he saw it. 

Then he started running. He booked it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	9. Fate Repeated

The Zora boy clung to the old woman’s neck. She patted him down with a towel. Maple perched on the edge of her chair. She wanted to touch the scales, but she was old enough to know it was rude. This only made her want to touch the scales more. 

“Where did you come from?”

“Papa’s Lyre.”

“Your pop’s a liar?”

“A Lyre is an instrument, Maple.” Grandma Syrup replied.

“People don’t come from instruments.”

“You’re right.” The witch wrapped up the boy in a blanket and set him in a whicker chair. “But that’s also a little too crazy to make up.”

“Nuh-uh.” Maple rebuttaled. She eyed the boy. Nothing would escape her perception. “Kids will make up anything.”

“Mmm.” Was Syrup’s only response. She had a bigger interest. The boy had a fairy. She had never seen a Zora with a fairy before. A boy, who came from nowhere, with a fairy, and little to say? She mentally filed the child under Troublesome. She set fire under her couldron. “Maple, can you get the beef from the freezer? We’re having a stew tonight.”

“Okay!” Maple hopped off her chair and scuttled into the icebox. The Zora watched her carefully. His head-tail didn’t bobble as he watched Maple skitter about. He huddled the blanket and tried to dry himself further, keeping warm. These were not the behaviours of a Zora. “Granma, please take it. It’s cold.”

She took the beef and placed it gently into the couldron’s water. It would be warm and soft for cooking before dinner. She was watching the fairy. It wasn’t curious like the other one had been. This fairy was quiet, protective, reserved. It was watching her.

“So, little one.” Syrup dried her hands. “Your parents know you’re here?”

“Papa does.” The boy muttered. 

“And Mama?”

“No.” The boy started to giggle. “Papa’s gonna be in lots of trouble.”

Syrup nodded with great emphasis. “I imagine he will be.”

“He’ll be coming back for us soon.” The fairy voulenteered. Ah, so it does speak. So it has been fed. Syrup wasn’t sure on the specifics, but the picture looked more familiar by the minute. “May we stay?”

“There’s no room.” Maple folded her arms. “It’s only Granma and me!”

“Now, dear.” Syrup soothed, “Don’t be inhospitable. They are people in need.”

“Then we will make them a house potion.”

“If only there were such a thing!” Syrup chuckled. “When you are a full witch, Maple, I will look forward to your house potion. Until then, I dare not loose this child to the fields. I could only imagine the wrath that would follow.”

“What!” Maple sat on the floor in protest. “We don’t even know who he is!”

“No, but I know who his father is.” Syrup sighed. She stood over the boy in the chair. “And I know enough to know you’re not a Zora. There will be no lies in this house.”

The fairy hesitated. Then he bounced against the boy’s head. The scales fell like light. The fin unwraveled into long locks of hair. Gannon, in his true self with his Triforce hand picking his nose, sat in the chair. He noticed that his glamour fell, and shoved his hand in his silken pocket.

“Even when he’s not here he’s causing me trouble.”

Maple leaped up, crossed the room, and shoved the boy onto the floor. Then she bolted into the back of the house and slammed her bedroom door behind her. Gannon had never been shoved off a chair before, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to take the whole thing. He pushed himself to his feet, which took a minute. 

“Are you alright?” Zeel and Syrup asked in swift unison. Gannon nodded. Syrup huffed and put the boy back in the chair. She looked him over for bumps.

“This isn’t going to work.” Zeel spat. 

“Good luck finding somewhere else.” Syrup flashed the fairy a look. “You think one little girl is going to be a threat? Try an army. Try an entire nation, or three. That troublemaker may have grayed me prematurely but he was my best customer, too. He knows I’d do anything for his chaotic soul, but good luck finding someone who even thinks of him fondly now. You may be used to treated like a Prince’s pet, but in this house we don’t play favourites. If you want your bones, you’re going to put work in like everyone else. Matter of fact, you can start by getting the bullion cubes from the third cubbard shelf. Drop six into the pot.”

Zeel didn’t hesitate to obey. It felt out of character. Still, she mentioned bones. He liked bones. Flavoured bones were the best. Maybe it was because she was blatantly a witch. Maybe it was because she considered one of the most terrifying people in Hyrule a simple neusance. Maybe she hadn’t seen him when he was angry.

“As for you, young man,” Syrup lifted the boy’s chin. “We’re gonna do what we can for you until your father can come back. Although, when I said no lies I meant me too. It will be a long time before your father comes. If he sent you here, he is in trouble. Do you know if your mother is safe?”

“She’s in the safest place in Hyrule.” Gannon said proudly. Syrup hoped he was right.

“Alright. Well, until he comes, you’re in hiding. You have to go undercover any time a customer comes.”

“It’s not safe here?”

“Let’s say it’s not the safest place in Hyrule.” Syrup cast a side eye to ensure the fairy was adding in the cubes. “When a customer comes, it may be a good idea to be your Zora self. We’ll need to give you a Zora name, too. We’ll pick out one together.”

“Okay.”

“Fairy.”

“My name is Zeel.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Hyrule Bay?”

“Do you know how to get to your boy’s mother from here?”

“By nightfall.”

“Then go. Tell her that I will look after her son with great care.” Syrup said. “But I cannot ensure his safety if he leaves.”

“Ominous.”

“Truth.” Syrup spied into the couldron. “Now, you flutter-light, and come back just as swiftly!”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Impa grabbed him by the collar of his armour. The panting, exhausted gaurd fit neatly through the crevice pass. The lighter armour made for an easier drag than a proper soldier. She didn’t have to look hard to see he was from the castle itself. He was spent, but still concious. She half-carried him to a cot and dropped him there. Passing soldiers brought her water. 

“Is he hurt?”

“Not by enemies,” Impa tilted up his head so he could drink the water.

The guard gasped. He pawed at the water and breathed it. This was naturally followed by a coughing fit. She let him sort himself out. The coughing strained his already burning muscles. Then he started pointing.

“The village.” 

The soldier leaned in with a barrage of questions, but Impa held him back with her hand. The coughing fit continued. The guard wheezed up a lung and settled down.

“Bokoblins will raid it at nightfall.”

“You ran all the way from the village?” The soldier squeaked. “Not bad for a castle stiff.”

The guard gave him a thumbs up. “I just… need a few minutes… and then I can help.”

“No.” The soldier and Impa said it together. The guard shrank in the cot. Impa checked his forehead for fever, then with a sharp turn, left the room. The soldier folded his arms. “You’re staying down. Your body has already taken too much strain. To push it could be permanent. What are you even doing out here?”

“I came to speak with Impa.”

“Well, good.” The soldier threw a thin blanket over him, and slapped him in the face with a pillow. “You can rest while you wait for Impa to get back. You can talk to her over breakfast. We have a village to defend.”

The guard gave a considerable amount of protest, but it was drowned out in the cacougheny of soldiers preparing for battle. He fell asleep with the pillow still over his face. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Zelda stood between two Sheikah, with her rapier at her hip and the key to his cell in her hand. She looked rather smug about it. This made Link think some unsavoury things, which for both his own dignity and his health, he kept to himself. She unlocked the cell, and the Sheikah siezed him up off the floor. They folded his arms behind his back. They were sure to be firm, but also not to hurt him. He appreciated it, and he kept this to himself also.

“We’re going to retrieve the mother.” Zelda informed him. “You will bathe while I have our horses drawn up, and then you will escort the three of us through the Lost Woods, and we will bring the Gerudo back here.”

Link blinked. “You know I hate baths.”

“Listen, Link.” Zelda’s sharp posture fell. “I’m sure you’ve done your best up to this point, but honestly this is for her benefit, too. She’ll have actual accomodations here. The council signed it. Both the mother and the boy can live here, under close watch, and recieve an education, too.”

“Which means they can also use the Library.” Link sighed. “She’d be happy to have an actual bed, honestly- but she would never feel safe. She would lie in that comfortable bed and never get a wink of sleep.”

“The council already signed that no harm would come to her.”

“I’m glad you can trust in paper promises.”

“Go. Bathe.” Zelda pointed a sharp fingernail to his chest. “ You can be snide all you want on the way there. And wash all that feral mentality you’ve got with you!”

The Sheikah turned him away from the princess. It was a bit of a walk to the bathhouse for prisoners, possibly by design. There were few prisoners actually in these cells. Link hadn’t actually taken notice at how alone he was in the dungeons. Listening to his footsteps echo through the halls, he wished he hadn’t given it thought. 

He was hoping that the Sheikah were going to let him bathe on his own. They did not. 

 

He wore clothes that fit, mostly. They weren’t his clothes, and he wasn’t permitted to work the fabric himself. The Sheikah escorted him to the stables where Zelda was waiting. She held three dappled mares. She did look lovely, the way her dress flew over the saddle, catching just enough wind to show the leggings underneath. One Sheikah got on a horse, and then Link was passed up to them like a sack of potatoes. The other Sheikah got on the third horse. 

“Zelda, you know I have a horse. I don’t need-”

“You also don’t need to outpace us by half a day.” Zelda cut him off with a calm frown. She nudged her horse forward, and the other two followed. “You’re a felon, Link. I have to treat you like one. The sooner you get used to that, the easier this will be on the rest of us.”

They rode to the back gate of the castle to avoid the market square. The horses trotted off into the grass, happy for something other than oats. The riders nudged them on. They skirted around the castle wall to the bridgepath, the hooves echoing against the wood like a soothing painting, and finally broke gate into the open field. Zelda took lead, Link and his babysitter in center, and the last Sheikah flanked them, a bit behind. It was already a bit more than an afternoon’s ride to the Lost Woods on Epona, and he was not keen on the ride on a normal horse. 

Evening was about to fall when they finally reached the path to the tree trunk entrance of the Lost Woods. They dismounted, tied the horses to a tree, and then painted the grass with a glowing ooze. Link furrowed his brow. 

“Is that… going to keep the monsters away from the horses?”

“Its been successful so far.” Zelda was rather pleased with herself. “We tried using it for villages too, but apparently the drive is too strong against Hylians for the ward to work on most beasts. So far it’s only been able to ward off Moblins that way, but at least it’s better than fighting Moblins.”

Link agreed. A lot of things were better than fighting Moblins. The Sheikah slid him off the horse and undid his shackles. They gave him a deku stick. He shrugged. It was enough. Zelda curtsied and nudged him into the lead. 

“Alright, but before we go in,” he said, and Zelda raised an eyebrow, but he had his shoulders squared. This was important. “As we get closer to the temple, music will start to play. You cannot follow it. If you feel tired in the forest, do not eat anything, and for your soul’s sake, do not sleep. If a fairy starts a conversation with you, do not answer them. They’re not inherently dangerous, but they want to distract you so you’ll make a mistake.”

The Sheikah nodded. Zelda put her hand on her rapier. Satisfied, Link swung on his heels and strode into the giant, suspiciously dark tree stump. The scents of the wood rushed him. He never actually had his own home, but this was close enough. 

_ Right at the stepping stones,  _

_ Straight at the sleeping crow, _

_ Left at the broken bough _

_ but only if you duck below. _

 

“How do you know where to go?” Zelda ducked behind him. There were no trail

markers, no clues. She expected everything to be overgrown, maybe with some light trodding, but instead everything felt like an intersection of dead ends. Every space they went to had a crossing of well beaten paths, all which ended in some oddly characteristic feature. What was more interesting to her was that Link was not just walking. He was hestitating. He was looking around at his options before proceeding. 

“I follow it.” Link was not paying attention to Zelda. He was not paying attention to the Sheikah. He was entirely focused on the wood. The more she watched him the more she saw his attention snap in every direction. She saw him watch squirrels. She saw him stare at a tree for an awkwardly long amount of time, like he didn’t trust it. He was talking to himself, signing at his hip, and she saw him swear a few times. Then he stuck out his arm so quickly that she walked into it. “Wait for it.”

The Sheikah were done with this place. A few turns in they had drawn their weapons and were ready to cut down the trees. Their trained patience and their lack of grounding stayed their hands. Zelda had no such rationality. Her only ability to keep her whits about her was the fact that she had to do it on a daily basis, and frankly, she had always wanted to see the Lost Woods. Pure interest and practice were her only weapons against the wood, and she was surprised at how well they were holding her up. 

The sound of a small brooke rose over the hush of the forest. Link dropped his defensive posture. He spun toward the sound of the brooke. There, where there clearly had not been before, was a tree trunk very similar to the one at the entrance. The same darkness shrouded the other side of the glade. Link took a deep breath, braced himself and walked through. 

“Ah, Loamol,” he said. Zelda followed him through the tunnel. It was the first time she heard the woman’s name. Link said it with a tenderness that Zelda knew he reserved for the people of Hyrule. “Gannon is safe but-”

As Zelda and the Sheikah stepped through the trunk, they saw the calm glade. It was a great reprieve from the Wood. They saw the firepit they made, the garden which had been haphazardly expanded, the brook that bubbled peacefully. They saw the temple, glowing and radiant, and the two little shelters neatly stacked into existance. 

They also saw Link, calmly furious. He turned to Zelda, his eyes aglow, and with a thousand voices, anger, fear and furstration layered a thousand times, “I had one rule. Stay in the glade. You, I hope, are smart enough to obey it.”

He took Zelda’s rapier and stormed through the open doors of the Temple of Time. 

 

~*~*~*~*~

The Temple of Time, disguised as Young Gannon, floated in the air with his whole front of his head aglow. His hair flew up like flames, flickering in a wind that Loamol could hear but not feel. She could hear a laughing that was both the boy’s but layered a grown man’s so that the timing was just off. There were ritualistic shields, mirrors she thought, that held the podiums of solid sand in place. The podiums were strained to hold together. She could feel them shaking and convulsing under the ritual-mirror’s power. 

As he floated, images of who he used to be flashed behind him. He was slowly falling, coming closer to Loamol. With every flash of Gannon in his past lives, there was a faceless Gerudo woman- featureless, inert, empty. Everything Loamol feared of an empty vessel to be hung in the rigid form of the Gerudo. 

Loamol felt the crackling of her scalp. Her brain shrank under cold on the other side. She looked at her hands, but there was nothing to indicate a change. She touched her head, one side quite hot, the other quite cold. The agony seeped through her skull, flushed behind her eyes. Screaming fled from her mouth but there was no sound to it. Instead a witch’s cackle resounded from quaking pillar to quaking pillar. 

 

WE WILL MAKE A MOTHER WORTHY OF US

 

As Temple Gannon flaoted closer to her face, she saw her reflection over the front of his head. Though the glow, through the light that radiated from within him, she saw herself. Her nose was twisted, her skin thin and paled like the Zora, and her rich hair was gone. A plume of fire and a pillar of ice jettisoned from her skull. Her eyes sunk into her face, glassy and mad. As she looked at her contorted face, she could hear the thoughts behind each eye- seperate and catankerous. 

 

YOU THOUGHT YOU HATED THE BOY, WHAT PITY, HOW POORLY YOU MORTALS INTERPRET HISTORY. 

 

The mothers that stood around the pillars, the mirages of Loamol’s through time, crumbled. Some blackened to ash, some shattered with a glittered dust, and from their dust rose legions of monsters. The monsters were not mirages like the women. Wolves with stone, white fur howled to Temple Gannon. Great black monsters with heads like shields and arms like vines staggered out of the ashes. Wizrobes rose up, lightening crackling around them. Skeletons of the many murdered Gerudo people climbed through the sand of the pillars, tumbling over one another, wailing for the mercy of the Goddesses. 

 

A TRUE MOTHER WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HER SON.

 

The waves of monsters kneeled at Gannon’s feet. They salivated and they growled. They watched Loamol’s breathing to see if they could stop it with their will. Gannon, not her boy, but a shadow behind him- a phantom of himself, but greater, lifted her by her chin to her feet. It was gentle, it was commanding, and though it did not harm her, she felt less alive for it. The monsters watched her with intent eyes. 

 

YOU, YOU WILL DO. YOU WILL SERVE.

 

It wasn’t the Temple’s voice- and it wasn’t Gannon’s. She had heard thousands of Gannon’s voices over and over in the past five years. This was not any of them. This was something greater, something deeper, and her thoughts raced in echoes. Two voices within her bickered about who he was, but not as his identity, but only who he was to them. Was he their god, they argued, or their beloved? Loamol did not like either. 

“LOAMOL, I SWEAR TO THE GODDESSES, YOU BETTER NOT BE DEAD.” She had never been so happy to hear him. “BECAUSE I AM COMING TO KILL YOU.”

“Link!” Her voice managed to escape lips, just not Loamol’s. Instead, it came from the thousands of monsters rising up out of the temple sand. Her eyes looked toward the entrance of the room, but her head would not turn. The figure behind Temple Gannon splintered into rising black rain. Temple Gannon and Loamol floated in the center of all the pillars. 

Link, standing in the scraps of fabric of a prisoner’s uniform, holding the Princess’ rapier, looked upon all the monsters and chaos and decided he was not about it. He stared at Loamol. Seeing that she had a face, he was satisfied. Looking at Gannon, and seeing that he was naught but a puppet of light, decided to look elsewhere. He poured his attention over the monsters. Most of them did not have facial features either. The wolves howled when they moved their heads, but their muzzles did not open. Wizrobes floated and bent to a false wind, but they had no eyes that reflected their elemental affiliation. The skeletons had solid bone for skulls. 

Link kept looking. There had to be more here. He put his foot out and stepped on one of the pedistals. He could feel it vibrating underfoot, shaking, but it was solid. He leaped onto the surface and jumped to the next podium. No matter where he looked, nothing had a face. Nothing had a identifying  _ self _ feature. The only one with an identity was Loamol. 

Loamol looked familiar. With the fire and the ice adornments, and her outfit slowly changing, she reminded him of someone. Deep within his instincts, he did not like her. That was good enough for him. He drew the rapier. 

“Loamol, let go.” 

“Of what?!”

“Whatever you came in here to find out, you have to let go of it.” 

“How would I do this? I cannot move.”

“There are two ways out of this,” Link sighed. He hated this place. “Either you beat the trial, or I kill you, and then everything else in the room. Whatever you are hung up on, you need to get over it.”

YES, MOTHER, ACCEPT YOUR PLACE. ACCEPT YOUR SON. 

 

Link decided he was not going to get involved in the discussion. The monsters were closing in. He did not have his bow, or bombs, just this damned rapier that made cool sounds when he whipped it about. He took a deep breath, crouched down on the sandy pillar, and then slid down the side. He leaped off over a wolf and speared it through the skull.

Loamol could not turn her head to see Link fighting, but she could hear the wolves shriek. She could hear the skeletons of the Gerudo long lost calling out to her for aide. They demanded her power, her blessing, her will. The pain and the sensations were too much. Loamol’s vision shook and her limbs were falling asleep. 

“STOP,” Loamol wailed. The monsters froze in place. They stared at her without eyes. “My son is not a demon.”

 

CLOSE ENOUGH.

The seals on the sand dropped like anchors, dissolved into sand, and melted into the floor. The pillars poured sand in every direction and the monsters gently succumbed to it. Link had nothing to hold on to, and no Hookshot to pull himself out. Sand rushed into his mouth and he fell under.

Temple Gannon finally grew a feature. Through the light behind his not-face, she could see the visage of the one that came before him. It was him that smiled. With a face like a mountain, cracked under the pressure, eyes blazing like the cores of a star, he smiled at her. The face dissolved into light, and then Temple Gannon twinkled out of form. A small sphere of light, almost fairy without a body, lowered her down to the floor where the sand settled. Then, like a famished fire, it snuffed itself out. The temple resumed it’s vacant self.

Lights, mostly white with a speck of blue, gathered under the sand, and in many parts, swirled together. They first formed a ball, then the shape of a boy, a dog, and then finally settled on Link himself. The details faded in. As the lights came together, they weighed too much to float. Link woke with a start as his head hit the sand. He coughed and sputtered, wheezed, and then made sure he still had Zelda’s rapier. Then he looked at Loamol.

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“Gannon’s mother,” she said.

Link squinted. “Whatever. I’ll have a nightmare about it later.”

He took her hand and firmly grasped it. As they walked away from the center of the floor, her hair grew back. The fire turned to smoke, the ice to steam, and the scalp scars covered themselves with her bright, orange-red hair. Link dragged her through the door, threw her in front of him, and had her walk outside while he sealed the doors. Again. 

He made the mistake of looking through the gap before the doors closed. A wolf watched him. It had an unnatural grin, like it’s sneering expression was carved into it’s skull against its will. Link slammed the doors shut. He shuddered. There would definitely be nightmares tonight. 

Loamol stumbled out of the Temple of Time to the smell of cooking fish. Two Sheikah, Zelda, and Zeel were huddled around the firepit, cooking some koi fish. They were rather invested in their conversation before Loamol emerged. A minute later, Link came out of the temple, looking much like the angry young self he had been as a boy. 

“It’s been two days.” Zelda spoke softly. She had dealt with angry Link for years. She watched for the signs. Instead, Link sheathed the rapier and returned it to her, hilt-first. Greatfully she put it back on her hip. “Are you hurt?”

“Not anymore.” Link marched past her. He stared at the fairy. “Why are you here?”

“I was going to talk to Loamol.” Zeel kept his voice down. Unlike Zelda, he had not seen Link this angry. However, he had seen Link sleepwalk, which was almost as bad. “Zelda filled me in on what she plans to do.”

“I was going to oppose it.” Link spat. “Good to know I don’t have to waste my breath.”

“What?” Loamol looked at Zelda, and the Sheikah. “No. No! The point of staying here was to escape-”

Link did not look at her. Instead he did as he was taught, and handled his anger one problem at a time. He picked up a cooked fish and tore into it. The Sheikah offered him a second. Loamol cut her protest short and Zelda helped her pack her things. The Sheikah helped Link pack his. Zeel took the moment to slip away from the campsite. The Sheikah noticed, but didn’t dare follow him through the Wood. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


	10. An Empty Glade

Gannon sat at the window, waiting for Zeel to come back. Down the sloped steps and unlevel porch, the grass of Hyrule Field sprawled all the way to the horizon. Gannon couldn’t even see the trees. The river coursed through its bed like a flock of birds. The fireflies would be coming out soon. Up the river, the twinkling lights of the Zora Trading Post sprinkled soft colours on the calm waters of the lake. Gannon had never seen anything like Hylia lake, or the river, or the great open field. He had never known how big the world was outside the Wood, no matter how many times Papa had told him. He missed home. He missed Mama terribly. 

“Grandma says that I have to apologize for pushing you.” Maple said. Gannon picked up his chin off the windowsill. Maple stood in her simple blue dress with her arms crossed tight. “Even if you are bad.”

“I’m not bad.” Gannon said. It wasn’t a protest as much as a statement. A correction. 

“Oh, what, so I’m just supposed to believe you? Look, what Grandma says, goes.” Maple huffed. “So I’m sorry I pushed you. But she didn’t say I have to like you. Because of you, my dad might die. Your monsters are hurting everyone and you don’t even care.”

“The monsters are wild.” Gannon quoted Papa. “They only know monsters and monster things.”

“Pigs are wild.” Maple slammed her hands on her hips. “Grass is wild. Water is wild. The birds are wild, too. They don’t do half the damage your monsters do! You better keep them away from my dad, if you know what’s good for you. If my dad dies, yours will too!”

Gannon, for all this thousands of years of existance, did the healthiest thing he could do. He didn’t use his power. He didn’t even think of it. Instead, he looked Maple in the eye, and he cried. He wept messy, snotty, globby tears. He did this because he was five, and he had a really hard week for anyone. Maple felt terrible, so she left. 

Grandma Syrup thought that went relatively well, all things considered.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The village shored up fraud defenses. They intimidated no one. They slowed few. They comforted some. Children were ushered into hiding places, basements, barrels and secret places between the houses. Some of the women hid with them to keep them quiet. Most women took up arms with the men. The soldiers, the few that they were, lined up as a first defense. A firefly flew near them. They prayed on it, but fireflies do not have the power to grant wishes. 

A clamour rose from the camps outside. Brutish whooping and gargled chuckling echoed over the village like smoke from a fire. The soldiers tended to their spears. No chance, no luck, no room for stress. All they could give was their best. 

He prepared gauze. He prepared potions from milk, and herbs for miracles. Scarce were his supplies, but plentiful his help. Around the village waited traps and tripwire. The founders of the temple would have taken pride in him. He made small kits for the soldiers, and tucked them into their armour. He gave them charms the children had made. Once he had seen to the soldiers and the fighters that he could, he took up his spear. 

First came the fire. It scorched the grasses and it crept toward the village like an omen. The Bokoblins, both scrawny and lopsided as they were, grinned against the firelight. It lit up the stains in their teeth like a confession. The soldiers did not yet lower their spears. They drew closer. The glowing ooze slapped on the thin barricades made them hesitatate. The smell of Hylain blood drew them further in. Though the ooze stung, they pressed on. The stinging did not bother them so much. 

As the Bokoblins scrambled within reach, the soldiers hunched down, speared them through and flung the Bokoblins back. Villagers descended upon the Bokoblins like vultures, with clubs and axes and tools from the gardens. The more Bokoblins flew over the soldiers, the more frantic the beating became. Bokoblins scrambled to their feet to eat the flailing Hylians, but most did not get back up. 

Moblins looked at the ooze and squealed, and the octorocks fired only at the ooze itself. They screamed in their own tongues, but the Bokoblins had no fears. They raced, their feet burning in the ooze, into the spears, and onto their backs at the mercy of the frightened. As the Bokoblins ran through the ooze, it spread, it smeared, and in many places it became thin. Opportunity rose, and a Moblin took advantage of it. 

It inched around the streaks of ooze, wading through battle-blinded Bokoblins. It sneered at the Soldiers. They were overwhelmed. Bokoblins were scraping at their armour now, tearing away at their measly defense. Some villagers were feral on fury. Others were getting tired. The Moblin noted one soldier, his posture weak, his attention wavering. The Moblin stepped over his tiny charges. The weak soldier and the Moblin locked eyes.

_ No _

The Moblin hesitated. The soldier turned to their comrade to beg for aid, but his comrade was already wounded. The weak tried to mend him so that he could return the favour. The Bokoblins claimed him before he could make sense of the damage. The Moblin stared at the medic, hungrily. 

_ No! _

The Moblin shrugged off the echoing voice. No one commanded it. It was a Moblin, proud and formidable. It scooped up the weak soldier, the medic, and in several messy gulps, devoured him. The soldiers shouted. The Villagers screamed. Their tactics fell apart.

Then there was a horn. A horn blew, a rally and a challenge. Soldiers from the Research had arrived. They had marched the whole distance on foot. At their head, a Shiekah woman stood with a borrowed sword drawn. The focus of the battle shifted. She cut through the ranks of the monsters. She weaved through their strikes and the soldiers behind cleaved through her path. 

With a graceful, forceful leap she landed atop a low building. She stood tall, held up her sword in the evening sun. She blinded the Moblin and took this chance to speak. 

“A beloved fool has sent word to the Castle of your plight! We need only survive until they arrive! Rally your brethren, rally your blood! Tomorrow is coming, but only if you fight!”

Before the morning came, reinforcements rode out to the village. Morning came soon after. With all present, the dead were gathered. Monsters were burned, and in places where no bodies could be recovered, their treasures were buried, or sent by postman to family. One postman carried nothing but gauze wrapped around a photo of a girl. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Zeel’s wings were sore before he saw the cottage on the bay. The sun’s last hues were splashed against the Goron mountains, scattering faded reds and oranges through the Zora tradepost. At least it was beautiful. His heart beat against his tiny chest. Focus on the good news, he thought, focus on the good news. 

He flew through the window to see Maple, Syrup and Gannon quietly seated around a counter with their stew. Measuring vials and a burner were set aside. Maple was grumpy, Gannon’s eyes were red and puffy, and Syrup looked as if the soup was the most notable thing on the table. At the sound of his fluttering, Gannon almost lept out of his seat. 

“How’s Mama?” Gannon threw up his hands for Zeel to land in them. Zeel was happy to do so. The fairy caught his breath and laid down in the boy’s soft hands. “Did you tell her I miss her?”

“I did, I didn’t- she already knows, and I also told her that you were okay.” Zeel panted. “Papa was there, too. He worked out something with the Hylians, and they’re going to live with them for a while.”

Syrup lifted her head. She had a deep, shadowed expression. That was going to be a long conversation that Zeel did not have the energy for. 

“Mama… is moving?”

“For now.”

“But… our home! What about the fishies?!”

“They know what to eat.”

“And the garden?!”

“The Temple has raised trees strong as the world itself. It can handle some tomatoes.” Zeel summoned up a smile. He got up and stretched. “But what really needs attending right now is that stew. Go on, eat up.”

“Nana Syrup?” Gannon climbed up into his chair at the table. Maple grimaced at him addressing her grandmother, but said nothing. She dug harder into her supper.

“Yes, dear.”

“Can Zeel have some soup?”

“I have something better for him.” She slid over a small dish with tiny bones, rings from steak, knuckles and scraps. Gannon set Zeel on the table, right in the dish. Zeel was in heaven. The bones sang with broth and herbs and nutrients. This was a meal worth flying all the way back for.

“Good to see you eating heartily.” Syrup pointed her spoon at the fairy. “I have been thinking about Zora names for Gannon, so we’ll need that disguise of yours to help choose the right name.”

Zeel nodded. Syrup had meant later, in front of a mirror, but Zeel and Gannon had never eaten dinner at a table, or considered how casting magic all over the place would be improper. Zeel grabbed a bone in his teeth and cast his dust over the boy. A good portion landed in the stew. The webbed hands had a hard time with the spoon, which slipped out of his fingers and fell on the floor. 

“I’m not picking that up.” Maple grumbled. Syrup ignored her. Zeel flew down and hoisted the spoon high enough for Gannon to grab it. Syrup reached over, plucked the spoon from Gannon, and wiped it off before he stuck it back intohis mouth.

“I was thinking... “ Syrup looked over his red scales and bright eyes. Though they were the shape of Zora eyes, instead of the dark, glittering surface was a rich, sunset of Gerudo hues. “Atuh, or Eituno, maybe Eko?”

“Eko.” Maple looked up from her soup. She watched Gannon struggle with the spoon. “The other names are too soft. Eko, forget the spoon. Drink from the bowl, instead.”

Syrup looked to the boy, and the boy looked at the bowl. He picked it up. Zeel balanced on the rim to keep the boy from tipping it too far. Zeel had to remind him not to breathe the soup. Gannon kicked his pudgey feet and beamed. 

“I like it.”

“The name?”

“The soup! And the name.” He dropped the bowl on the table and slouched back into his chair. “I’m a full Eko now. Thanks Nana Syrup. Thanks Maple.”

Maple didn’t smile, but she wanted to. She thought to herself that this is what being an older sister felt like. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Living in the village was isolating for the girls. Mesol felt it was preferable to any of their other options, now matter how much her younger sisters disagreed. They would rather have friends, a bustling life, even if it meant a short one. Thankfully she was the eldest and she played that card often. 

The greatest solace, the one thing all three sisters could agree on, were the cats. The cats of the village were everywhere. Anywhere the girls went, there were cats to guide them. Village Elder Impaz had made it clear that the cats made the decisions, not her. The other Gerudo of the village may have had their qualms and their opinions, but the girls were protected. The cats watched over them. When the girls swept the dust out of their house, the cats stood at their door. The cats brought them birds to eat when they had nothing else. On the rare occasion when a merchant would come to town, the cats made sure the girls got to see them. 

While at first this worried the Gerudo, this changed. As time moved, they became less and less “Her Daughters” and more “the Cats’ Daughters”. They couldn’t expect the cats’ daughters to leave. The cats were here first. Mesol was bothered less. Other younger girls in the village began to talk to the youngest, Afiti, more. They laughed when she did cat impressions, and they did them with her. The middle daughter, who was still reserved on whether or not she felt at home, mostly hung out with the cats. Granted, the cats would choose to hang out in more open spaces, like the trading center. What Liteni was recoiling from socially, she was opening up more to proper trade. Mesol leaned on her broom and for the first time, got to see her sisters doing well. 

“I hope you’re okay, Mama.” Mesol whispered. The old tom hopped onto her little porch and sat by her heels. “I kept my promise, so you have to keep yours.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Zelda’s riding party entered through the back, the same way they had left. Palace guards flanked them at the stables. Link and Loamol was bound in chains. The public on the opposite side of the castle whispered. They knew the air of things changing, things happening, but no one was allowed inside. A public statement would be made later, once everyone had settled in, and not before.

Link and Loamol stood in front of the Throne. The terms were explained to them. Loamol was too afraid to speak, both of the crown and of Link who had not spoken in hours. They were given bracelets, ones that hummed with enchantments. Link’s was made tight. The council asked Link where he hid the boy, and of course he did not answer. Loamol asked him where her son was, and he did not acknowledge her. When Zelda asked Link direct questions:  _ Have you used your triforce to fight,  _ or  _ Do you accept the terms of your imprisonment, as an exchange for the life of yourself, Loamol and Gannon, while he is yet a minor? _ , he answered in sign. Zelda translated him aloud for the sake of the Council. 

Loamol was escorted to the servant’s wing of the castle. She was given her own room there for her own safety. It was simple, small by castle standards, and dressed in rudimentary fabrics. A servant was standing in the room with her, not as an attendant, but as a tutor. Loamol almost cried. What Zelda did not understand, the servent tutor was able to explain. The Gerudo have lost so much, and already she has survived the wilderness, and though this is a prison, it is her gentlest one yet. Loamol was reminded that to keep her accomodations, she was to work in the castle as she was commanded. She had agreed in the throne room, and she agreed again here. 

Link had expected to be brought back to his cell in the dungeons. The Sheikah touched his shoulder gently. There would be no such treatment now that an agreement had been reached. He was escorted to the soldiers quarters. Zelda apologized that she could not get him back to his old room, but she knew it was not possible. Instead he would have to live in the barracks with the other soldiers, other guards. He would live with his squad, those chosen to ride by his side for service. Link, above all things, was relieved. 

“They do not sign, you know.” Zelda said gently. “You’ll have to speak, or write. Both of which I know you’re loathed to do right now. Still, you’ll have time to adjust. Get some rest. The soldiers eat earlier than anyone else.”

Link was brought to the armourers, and he was fitted. His was given a standard spear, a standard sword, and a standard shield. The armourer apologized, but the sword he wanted was sealed. Link nodded. What he wanted was sleep. He was shown his cot, and though every soldier around stared at him, no one asked any questions. 

Link found himself missing Gannon, terribly.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Humidity settled with the dust that fell from the clay ceiling. He stood on a giant woman’s hand. Colours were faded with erosion, time and perspective. He blinked. The setting flickered and bled in together with other, similar memories. He looked at his hand. It couldn’t decide what size it was. 

The giant woman moved. He wasn’t sure if he had made her move, or if she was moving against him. He stood still. He looked at the wall. Sometimes there were tracks, deep, toothed grooves along the wall. Sometimes there were keese. Sometimes the wall was broken. The hand brought him through the ceiling, through dust and rubble. The room above was empty. 

It had a tall ceiling. Sunlight came through the window above. The room was a round arena, with sand coating the floor. There was a mural underneath, but he couldn’t make it out. A fairy whispered in his ear, thousands of them, saying roughly the same thing. Link groaned. This was a fight. He looked around for the Temple’s protector, and instead found one woman laying in the sand. 

It was Loamol. 

It wasn’t her, but the idea was the same. 

As she lifted her head, the fire and the ice claimed her hair. The room spun. It shifted between this temple, another temple, some tower, the Temple of Time from this lifetime, another temple- an open field? They had fought over, and over…

The fairy whispered and hid in his collar. 

“Hello, boy.”

Link waved. 

“We meet again.”

Link shrugged.

“Shall you cut me down, now that you know who I am?”

Link shrugged, but he nodded. He was still Link, and she was still her.

“So the dance begins.”

The woman floated into the air, her hair feral as the elements themselves. He wasn’t using his shield- it was one from the temple. Her reflection was in it. He knew how to fight her, and yet she also knew exactly what he would do. He drew his sword. The fairy dragged itself from his collar and flew headfirst toward the woman.

“One of these days, I am going to win.” she said. “No matter how many times you come back, I will end you.”

They circled. There were metal accents on his boots, and where they sand was thin, his footsteps echoed. She made little noise as she flew through the air. 

“I will be victorious, over and over,” she taunted, “And while you lay exhausted, my son will come to devour you whole, boy.”

Link didn’t answer. He wasn’t able to, not with his voice. Instead, his fairy spoke. “We’ll put you down every time, Twinrova.”

And then Link smelled fresh bread.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“There we go!” There was a weak cheer. Most folks were trying to be quiet. Link blinked himself awake. There, in fact, was a tight ring of soldiers around him. The slit of window through the wall shone on a support beam in the room. Ticks and neat lines were engraved up and down the pole. It was one of Link’s favoruite military inventions- a vertical solar clock. It was useless now, though, because the moon wasn’t bright enough to measure. Either way, it was night. He refocused on the soldiers. The closest one was holding a plate with fresh bread on it. Explained a fair bit. “Works every time. Come on, rookie.”

Link narrowed his eyes. Rookie, Seriously? It wasn’t cute six years ago, and not now.

“Don’t get sassy with me.” The bread-holder stood up straight. “You answer to me now. I’m Tamo. The lineup here is Tim, Ato, Ko and Lo. You’ll be stuck with us from now on.”

Link rolled himself to the edge and sat up. He had fallen asleep in his boots again. At least he was dressed. He rubbed his palms deep into his eyes. Zelda had warned him that soldiers ate first, but he was hoping that it would still be after sunrise. 

“So uh,” Link looked up. That one was Tim. He was a towering fellow; the spear suited him well. His armour had been modified several times. Looking at his face, Link could see why. He was young, and was hoping to stop growing. “Do you always glow when you sleep?”

Link shook his head. He added a mental note to talk to Loamol about what she knew of her own history. He wasn’t sure if the Twinrova she became in the Temple was a warning, or an awakening. He didn’t get to finish his thought because now Tim was talking again.

“Well, come on. If we’re late to breakfast we’ll have less time to eat.” 

Link nodded. That was a good reason to get moving. 

The squad kept him in the center of their circle. It was a defensive tactic. They chatted amongst themselves about everything else going on. They talked about what they were expecting for breakfast. They joked about someone from another squad being dumber than a horse. The squad was sheilding him from everyone else that passed them to breakfast. Link could feel the animosity, the anger from the others. He could feel the hurt coming from those he recognized- the guards whose names he knew. He focused on not walking on his squad’s shoes. 

In the glade he got to focus on the good he was doing. He got to build a family and have the life he thought he wanted. In the prison cell, he got to pity himself. He didn’t feel hungry. Zelda’s ‘mercy’ was to force him to stare at the consequences of his own decision. For a moment, he was pissed. What a backhanded- 

Tamo put a hand on his shoulder and guided him to the bench. Link gently collapsed onto the bench and sat at the table. His thoughts spilled out onto the table and he lost them. The squad sat down around him. Ko, Lo and Ato were looking behind him to see who would sit nearby. Link glanced about the table and found a napkin. He took some charcoal Zelda had planted into his belt. He held his charcoal over the napkin. He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase his thoughts.

“Later.” Tim tapped his other shoulder. The kitchenstaff rolled out like performers, carrying trays by hand, on carts, rolling out from every direction. They worked the maze of tables in a choreography. Soldiers ate the second they got their meals. When Link got a breakfast he didn’t hesitate to do the same. There was no talking. There was only scraping of utensils against plates. There were eggs, toast, sausages, fruit, a cut of fish. Link realized that he hadn’t had eggs in years. The cheese was a long lost flavour, too. 

“So I guess this is the first time you actually lived in the barracks, right?” Ato watched Link shovel the food in, and slid the pitcher of water closer. “I remember my first night. Granted I couldn’t shave yet then.”

“You still can’t.” Ko elbowed him.

“You keep missing places.” Lo laughed.

“You’re lucky you haven’t shaved your head off yet.”

“Or someone else’s.”

“Maybe we should switch your sword for a razor.”

“Then you’ll finally be a threat.”

Ato glared at Tamo for support, but Tamo was slowly drinking his coffee. Tim was just watching, pecking at his breakfast. Link was still thinking about eggs, cheese and Twinrova. Ato followed Link’s lead and drowned Ko and Lo out. There wasn’t much time to breakfast left anyway. The scraping of plates and trays echoed onto itself in breakfast’s last few moments. By the time the din wore down, one of the well decorated stood at the front podium. 

“Alright gentlemen, flip your trays!”  
The entire room flipped their trays over. On the back was their rank, their squad and their assignment. Link stared at the bottom of his tray. Their squad was sent on Patrol. He wasn’t sure what he disbelieved more: that he was being sent out on patrol for all to see he was captured, or that he had to obey a foodtray. 

“It was Zelda’s idea to make preperation faster.” Tim leaned in. “She’s been a wonder these past few years. I know she’s doing it to be clever, but I like her anyway.”

Link grabbed his charcoal and scribbed on the napkin (now greased). The squad leaned over the table to see what he was writing. What surprised them was two things, first, that his hadnwriting was surprisingly neat, and second, he was left handed. Partially smuged, he flipped around the napkin so they could read it. 

[How long has Zelda been at the head of the military?]

“Well, formally she’s not.” Tamo sat back. “She’s more like… a treasured advisor. She’s been using her gift to help us better prepare, or stretch our resources further. It’s a damn shame she’s not permitted at the General’s Table.”

There were a lot of questions and not a lot of napkin space. He was able to answer a couple of questions himself. Of course she wouldn’t be allowed at the table, she was connected to Link and Link was now connected to Gannon. As if that’s how the Trifroce pieces worked. Secondly, he knew she would be good with the military. She better be, after all these lifetimes of practice. Even if she didn’t remember them, the wisdom was there. Now it made more sense why he was in the regular military, she had more control over the situation. His true question was What is she planning?, but no squad would know what she was up to. He pulled the napkin close. 

[Do you trust her?]

The squad was taken aback by the question. “With our lives. Don’t you?”

Link didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. There were too many layers and he had still only been awake for twenty minutes. They bathed, geared up for patrol, and marched out to the watchtowers. Link found it odd that an entire squad was patrolling. 

 

While they patrolled, he saw the Hyrule Castle gate. It was battered, mended and rebroken. That’s why there were so many patrols, and so many men to it. From face to face, Hylian to Zora to Goron even, eyes shifted with distrust. The cobbles of the roads were discoloured. The squad talked the entire patrol. They talked to one another, they talked at Link, and they chatted with the guards at each post. In the whole day, nothing was said. There was nothing to say. 

Link hit the cot that night with his boots on again. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


	11. A Good Man

Zelda had slept with her rapier leaned against the bed. She woke in the middle of the night. She tied back her hair, and from under her bed, pulled out her dark coloured clothes. She changed. Her posture was the tell that she was not a true Sheikah. Only those close enough to the Sheikah would notice. She made her bed neat, and then started casting her spell. She cast from moonlight a replica of herself. When she learned the spell, the replicas were motionless and transparent. Since then she had done well to practice. In the moonlight, it was as opaque as a flame. She sent it out to the garden to sit by the flowers. She wished she could join herself. Instead, she turned into the castle.

She walked down the halls calmly. The guards nodded to the Shiekah, nervous. They were relieved when Zelda moved on. She had a ways to walk. It was a good time to think. She realized she could go visit Link now. Just, stop down to the barracks, quietly wake him. Catch up in the garden. She focused on her breathing while the thought wore itself out. Maybe next week, she lied.

She smelled the books before she slipped through the door. The dust in the library was disturbed. By magelight, members of the council were peeling back the pages. They muttered to themselves in hushed tones. They were stressed. Zelda cracked herself a smile. She snuck behind the hardy shelves. She focused on the sounds of the council. With a small, hush spell, she began to capture their sound. 

“Perhaps we need not kill them.” One councilman mused. “If that seems to be the issue, perhaps we can use the triforce while they yet carry it, or perhaps separate the people from its power.”

“To have them all in the same room is disastrous.” Another scoffed. “Two was bad enough. You may not remember, but they were terrors.”

We weren’t that bad, Zelda thought. Then she thought about some of the hijinks that she and Link had gotten into. Okay, I wasn’t all that bad.

“So, we still need a way to contain the pieces. When Gannon died, the power faded from his hand. When Link suffered his injuries, the same was happening. So until we find a better idea, they stay alive. Unfortunately.”

“Wait-”

Zelda peered through the books. One of them had found something. “Here, it’s recorded that they were able to lend their power to one another.”

They huddled around the book. It was harder to hear them now. She didn’t want to risk going closer. From what she could pick up, it sounded like Link had given her the Triforce of Courage, that she may slay Gannon on her own. That didn’t sound right. Part of her whispered that now she had a real reason to speak to Link. She dismissed it. 

“Well, we can do nothing without the boy.” One hissed. “We need him here. The two already know how to handle one another, and will not serve our purposes. We need chaos. You saw how Gannon reacted to her. If we are to come out the benevolent force in this, we need him.”

Zelda nodded to herself. The council continued to talk about where Gannon might be, but they didn’t consider anywhere the Lyre might send him. They thought the boy underground in a hole, or perhaps hidden in the Castle itself. Perhaps they had no idea how the Lyre worked. They likely didn’t know how any of Link’s equipment worked, or why they couldn’t wield the Master Sword. That also gave her some amusing ideas, none of which were constructive. She waited for them to leave the library. For a group of old men, working with books, this took an eternity. Zelda ended up sneaking around them to the back, instead. 

<Link.> Around her wrist was a bracelet, identical to the one she had tied to him. It glowed a soft blue, a luminous liquid running through its mechanisms. <Wake up, Link.>

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

His wrist was vibrating. He could hear Zelda in his head, and he did not like it. His eyes bolted open and he stared into the darkness. The vertical sundial in the center of the room suggested somewhere in the middle of night, maybe. Link looked at his prison bracelet. It was glowing blue. He tapped it. Mentally, he swore. 

<Hey, watch your language.>

Oh, good. A mind-reading bracelet. <This would have been useful years ago. Now you’re just annoying.>  
<Why do you think I made it?>  
<I just said why; you’re annoying.>  
He could almost hear her narrow her eyes. <They intend to use Gannon to sow discord between the three of us.>  
<You mean the Council?> Link tilted his head in thought. <It’s unimaginative enough to be believable.>

<The madwoman you sent him to live with,> Zelda started. He could see her facial expression in memory. It was entirely serious, except for the tiniest of smiles that tugged at the corner. An owl could find a mouse a mile above the field, but not Zelda’s tell. <Is she likely to give into the council?>

<She never gave in to traders, bandits, monsters or me.>

There was a pause. Link knew they were still connected because his bracelet was still glowing. Apparently not all thoughts went through- only the ‘voiced’ ones. 

<I’m proud of you.> Link thought. He could feel the whiplash he gave Zelda. <The squadron was telling me how you stepped up in the military. It’s rather… former of you.>

She took a second to answer. <I couldn’t do nothing. Though I fear I have played right into the Council’s hands.>

<Go back to sleep, Zelda.> Link rolled over in his cot. He could hear Tamo snoring softly above him. <At the end of the day, the one with the military is the one with the power. Even if the council has schemes, they don’t have the loyalty.>

<Thanks.> It was dismissal, but she did appreciate it. <Be careful, though. Gannon cannot come here, no matter how many times I send you to go get him.>

Link pulled the sheet over his head. The connection faded. He knew he couldn’t bring Gannon here, but it killed him to be apart. He could only imagine the agony Loamol was in, seperated  _ and _ clueless. He played with the bracelet. He hated not being able to trust her. He hated not being able to admit to himself that he missed her. He buried his face in his pillow. Sleep first. Everything else, later. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The guard awoke to a hushed scramble. Lights flickered from daylight to dim. He was still sore, so getting up took more effort than he hoped. A soldier rushed from his peripheral vision and helped him to his feet. 

“You must be the guard that ran the warning.” The soldier wrapped his arm under the guard’s shoulders. “Well, not this warning. The village being surrounded warning.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “This warning is seperate?”

“The lights means that the enemies are at our gates.” The soldier carried him through the cavern tunnels of the research center. He gestured quickly with other rushing soldiers, researchers that were belting out orders, and the soldiers that were shuffling out research equipment and covering up what couldn’t be moved. The guard blinked his eyes. The large machines of equipment that were stuck in place were being covered by sheets, and then large, paper-mache stalagmites. To the passing eye, they blended right in. It seemed so childish yet so effective.

“I remember when Zelda suggested that,” he muttered. “And I thought her mad.”

“She is mad,” the soldier smiled. “That’s why her plans work. We wish we could disguise them all the time, but they catch fire when the machines run.”

The guard nodded. Of course something would catch fire. It was science. Every scientist he had ever met believed that if there wasn’t a risk of fire, progress wasn’t being made. The guard had spent much of his years in service skirting such folk. 

“Listen, I don’t expect you to fight, but can you hold a spear?”

“I can fight. I’ve rested well enough.”

“Guards don’t fight,” the soldier chanted. He leaned the guard against a wall, and handed him a spear. The guard was offended, but as the lights dimmed again he kept it to himself. He certainly didn’t want to fight, but he could. “Listen, hopefully the monsters don’t actually find us. That would be bad. Most of our force is still at the village, recovering their strength and doing mendwork. I just need you to keep watch. If you see anything, shout.”

“You’re leaving me to die.”

“Listen, Impa says you’re the in guard for the Princess. That means you have to be worth your salt.” The soldier ruffled through his pouch to find a note. “Impa left this order… here we are, this order saying that should things go awry, that the researchers are in charge and you are to stand watch for her.”

“That sounds like I’m supposed to be looking for her, not monsters.”

“Yeah, well, that just means she’ll appear in your line of sight, not that you will find her on your own, yeah?”

The guard nodded. “Fair enough.”

The soldier hesitated to leave. “Listen, we’re running some really important stuff here.”

“I know that.”

“No, I mean… I don’t understand most of the readings these machines give off, and the researchers like to talk in a way that makes it hard to figure them out. Still, it’s pretty obvious that what’s going on in that energy mass? Isn’t an attack.”

The guard squinted. “What?”

“They’re not… building it as a weapon. Instead it’s like a structure. You know how a foundation goes down first, then the beams…”

“Yes.”

“Well, the energy itself was the foundation. We don’t know what they’re building, but the energy mass itself isn’t growing. The earth will crack, when winter comes, but they suspect nowhere near as far as the Goron city.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, clearly, you’re good at running. If something really happens, we need you to run your legendary legs to the castle, tell Zelda what I am telling you now, and then after a week’s rest, apply to be a Postman.”

The guard nodded with a heavy sprinkle of panic. “Those are my orders then?”

“From Impa herself.”

“Great, then can I have you hold another message, for Impa?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Today was a special day in the Hidden Village. A man had come to the gates. He was deceptively scrawny, as all of his muscles were in his legs and back. He carried a pack bigger than he was by far. He waltzed into the village, greeted the cats, and then sat down in dust. He reached above his head, pulled down a sign that said 

 

BEEDLE’S WARES

 

And then the sign became a little tray in his lap. He beamed a crooked-teeth, honest-hearted smile. The Gerudo came out in droves. They brought their spices and their homemade crafts to him, and he traded with them meats and herbs and tools. They traded rupees where they could, and products where they could not.

His greatest treasure came with his words. He told them stories. He gave reports of villages that had survived. He gave them woven narratives and songs that historians wrote of the current events. He brought printed clippings of current events, for wean and for woe. 

For the three daughters, he came with uncomfortable news. The mother of Gannon had been captured, peacefully. She would serve in the castle. She was their prisoner. Worst of all, Gannon was missing. Looking among the women of the Gerudo, Beedle dare not ask the question. There was no little boy here. The Gerudo women debated amongst themselves. 

The daughters rushed home to pack. Mesol had taught them how to pack quickly, neatly, lightly. When they had their essentials together, they rushed to the back door. Women of the village were waiting for them. Women surrounded the house. Mesol could hear her heart in her ears. 

“Girls, wait.” One of the women held up a gentle hand to her chest. “We will not bring you to harm.”

Mesol was not inclined to believe them. “Then why do you block our path?”

“Do you intend to look for your brother?”

Her sisters looked to her. The three of them had not thought of it. Their only concern was of their own safety. She wasn’t sure how to answer them. It was not a concern of what she wanted, but what was the correct answer to let them pass. Her hesitation was enough. The woman dismissed her question with a gentle expression.

“If not, then we bid you to stay,” she said. “You are our sisters. You suffer as we do. We belong here. We will not stop you if you mean to rescue your own, but… Perhaps there are stories you should know before you take to the winds.”

“What do you mean?”

“Until he is grown and upon the throne, it is empty. There are… many legends of what is promised of the Gerudo during these times, and it is a sin we have committed not to retell them to you already. As his sisters, you have a greater role in all of this.”

“My duty is to my sisters, and I will not follow in folly that might threaten them.”

“Mesol, please. Here, set down your things. Tonight, we celebrate Beedle’s coming and the news that your mother is safe. Tomorrow… we hold a Remembrance.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Syrup was busy at work. Maple ran circles around her, struggling to keep up. Gannon held the paper in his hand, squinting at the words. He could read in his mother’s tongue, but not quite Hylian yet. Syrup was an impatient teacher, but a supportive one. It didn’t help that most of the words on the page were unfamiliar to him. They were witch-terms. 

“Let me see the paper again,” Maple leaned over Gannon’s shoulder. “Uh, it says three greater potions of healing, a cure for warts, the moisturizer from the winter’s collection?”

“Oh yes.” Syrup nodded. “That’s the sodded deku nut creme. That will be a hassle.”

‘Why?” Gannon asked. 

“Once you leave the villages near the wood, everyone starts to think it’s a damned commodity. It’ll be a pretty rock or two to get them from the Zora markets. Only thing wrong with the place. People charge twice what things are worth for the convenience.” 

Gannon looked at the paper. “But deku nuts are free?”

“Only in the wood-” Syrup looked up from her couldron. Then she looked at Gannon. Zeel was asleep in his hair. “Your fairy is from the wood, yes?”

“Yep! He’s my guide.”

Syrup looked at Maple. Maple folded her arms. “I am not going.”

“He cannot go on his own, sweetie. Not if he is to get back in time.”

“We’ll be defenseless! In the Lost Wood!” Maple protested. In all fairness, she was correct. “We’ll get lost!”

“Take my broomstick,” Syrup turned back to her couldron, “and some flashing powder. I only need a handful, so stuff your pockets and come right home.”

Gannon poked Zeel awake.  The fairy rolled over, fell through the boy’s hair and into his hand. Zeel remained asleep. Gannon gently picked up Zeel between his fingers and bopped the fairy against his forehead. There was magical dust, but nothing came of it. Gannon looked at his hands through the dust to see if he had changed into a Zora, but he was still himself. The bonk was enough to wake Zeel though, who wasn’t too keen.

“What are you doin’, kid?”

“We’re leaving the house.” Gannon put him back into his palm. “I need to be Eko.”

Zeel raised an eyebrow. It was too small, and obscured by light, to notice. “What do you mean we’re leaving the house?”

“Granma Syrup wants us to go all the way to the Lost Woods for some Deku Nuts.” Maple spat. “It’s a bad idea.”

“You bet it is.” Zeel spat back. “The Lost Woods is no playground!”

“Fine then.” Syrup huffed. “You kids have a choice.”

“I am not a kid, I’m a fairy.”

“You can either go to the Zora Market and buy some Deku Nuts,” Syrup waved her ladle at them. “Or you can get some for free from the Wood.”

“This is child endangerment, Witch.” 

“So be it, but if we don’t serve our customers we won’t have a house to endanger you in.” Syrup huffed. “And I’m sorry to say it, but this is one witch of a customer who I do not want to displease. She has enough wealth to make manners not matter.”

“Zeel has a point, Granma. I can watch the house. I’m big enough. I know how to not let a potion burn!” Maple pleaded. “You always said that if I want to do it right I have to do it on my own, so let me handle this while you take… Eko.” 

Syrup stopped stirring. She looked Maple up and down. She scrached her long chin with her bony, talon fingers. “Alright.”

“Grandma Syrup, please! I know I- what?”

“I said ‘alright’.” Syrup gently ushered Maple to the couldron and handed her the ladle. “You take over this. It’s number six on the list; a magic potion for refuling artifacts.”

“Oh.” Maple smiled. “I know that one.”

“Right you do, dear.” Syrup washed her hands, fetched her broomstick from the back room, and checked that Gannon was a Zora child and not a Gerudo one. She set the broom, handle down, on the floor. After a soft clink on the hardwood floor, the broom floated like a bubble. It capsized after a few inches and then flopped over. Instead of hitting the floor like Gannon expected, it balanced in the air at his nose’s height. It wavered slightly, as if it was sleeping. “Ever ridden a broom before?”

Gannon stared at the broom, but there was nothing familiar about it. “I don’t know.”

Syrup hoised up her gown to the knees and swong herself over the broomstick. With her feet on the floor, she scooped Gannon up into her arms. Begrudgingly, Zeel cast the illusion over him and his hair twised into a tailfin.

“Alright now, lock your feet together around the bottom of the broomstick.”

“But I’m gonna fall.” Gannon whimpered.

“No you won’t. I’ll catch you.” Syrup’s voice wasn’t quite capable of gentle, not like Mama’s. Still, he could hear the genuine nature of her voice. “Now wrap your hands around the broomstick, there you go, and since your hands are small yet, hold it so that your thumbs sit together. That’s it.”

Maple rushed to the door and flew it open. Syrup nudged the broomstick on, and out the open doorway they flew. What Maple expected to be a graceful occasion of wonder was filled with Gannon screaming with panic. Maple closed the door behind them. Maple realized that she liked Eko, he was cute and kinda quirky. What she didn’t like was Gannon, the Evil King, the one who would burn all of Hyrule with Maple still in it. Eko didn’t seem like the kind of person to do that.

There was a knock at the door. Maple checked the potion in the couldron and the fire underneath. Everything was stable. She rushed to the door. “Syrup’s Brew, how can I help you?”

It was a postman. “Hello, Maple.”

“Hello, Mr. Postman.” Maple cursied messiliy. “Another mail-in order?”

“Is Grandma in?”

“She just took the broom.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“Before sunset.” Maple shrugged. “If it’s an urgent I might be able to handle it, if you wanna wait.”

“I think this one better wait for her.” The postman spoke in a sullen harmony. “You shouldn’t try this one on your own. Promise me you’ll wait until she gets back?”

Maple rolled her eyes a little. She nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

The Postman pulled back his hand. “Maple, look me in eye and promise me you’ll wait until your grandmother gets back.”

“I already promised!”

“Fine.” He, reluctantly, turned it over. 

“Thank you.” She tucked it into a pocket of her dress. “Do you need anything? A Nayru syrum? Staminella Juice?”

“On the house?”

“We run a business, sir.” She smiled. “But I can get you a Frequent Flyers discount.”  
“You drive a hard bargin, kid.” He loosed his purse anyway. “I’ll take two Staminellas and a Milk.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

All of Hyrule sprawled beneath them. From the Goron Peaks to the towering boughs of the Great Tree over the Kikori, Hyrule field stretched like a taffy over the landscape. The river coursed through its hills to reach the lake at its center, and far to the North East sat the Castle. Under the morning sun, the Tradepost glittered in the lake. 

“I’ve never seen those mountains before.” Gannon muttered. It was hard to hear the boy over the wind around the broom. Syrup thought he was looking to the Goron mountains, but instead he was looking the other way. There was a mountain range beyond the Lost Wood. 

“I don’t know much about those.” Syrup admitted. “No one gets past the Wood to find out.”

“I bet Papa could.”

“Then maybe you can ask him when you see him again.”

Gannon peeled his eyes away from the mountains to see the rest of Hyrule. He couldn’t describe how he felt about it. What he felt was a longing. It wasn’t like a home-sick feeling. It was like jealousy. He looked at Hyrule and felt the same guilty, angry feeling that Maple got when Syrup gave him more attention than her. It was bigger than that. It was like someone took food out of his hand and gave it to a dog. He didn’t know how to word that feeling, much less how to express it. Gannon stared at Hyrule and tried not to be angry. He remembered when Papa told him about anger, and how it was like fire, either building or destroying. After staring a while, he noticed an arc of lightening over by the Goron Mountans. He pointed it out to Granma Syrup. 

She wasn’t sure what to make of it. “That… we should leave that alone.”

“But... “ Gannon squinted. It was hard to furrow a brow of scales, but he was getting good at it. “It’s wrong.”

Syrup was not prepared for this. “What do you mean, it’s wrong?”

“I... “ He didn’t mean to. He needed to know, and whenever Papa needed more information, this is what he did. He reached deep into his Triforce and searched his memories. Thousands of feet into the sky, his eyes and his hands lit. ‘Red Rover, Red Rover, Ghira-”

Gannon was the one who shook himself out. He beat his feet in the air. Zeel flew out of his hair and in front of his face. Gannon was shaking the broom, but his little arms could not match the balance of Granma Syrup. 

“You wanna tell us what’s wrong?” Syrup nudged him. Gannon shook his head. “Come on, you’re not in trouble. We need to understand.”

“They want to bring bad men here.” Gannon was looking around the landscape, but he wasn’t sure what he was searching for. It was comfort, but without Mama there, it was hard for him to figure that out. “And I think I want him here, too.”

“Who?”

It was like a lightbulb. It burned hot under his braincells. It was being a fish at the end of a hook, he knew he was in trouble. He looked back at the energy at the base of the mountain. He thought the words to himself to make sure they were the right ones. He wanted them to be wrong. They weren’t.

“He’s my sword.”

Syrup nodded. “Okay.”

Gannon turned back to her with his wide, Zora face. “...Okay?”

“Yep.” Syrup pet his head, stroking his forehead gently with her bony fingers. Now she understood why the madman was trying so hard. Gannon was genuinely just a kid, trying to do his best. He was actively fighting his own fate. The two were both fighting fate, and he had thrust her right into it. She couldn’t even be mad, with how dreadful she had been to him as a boy, she had deserved it. “Well, there’s not much we can do with a sword right now. We need deku nuts, not swords.”

They landed just outside the wood. Around one of the trees, glowing ooze was fading into the grass. Syrup made a menal note to make more of the Moblin repellant. Gannon didn’t hestitate to go into the tall trunk. Zeel sipped in after him. Syrup, dreading her old age, picked up the hem of her dress and followed after them. 

As she came through the trunk into the Wood, she felt it. The Wood was watching. Zeel stayed close to Gannon, and dropped his glamour. The boy had already covered his hands in dirt. He also had a deku nut in his palm. 

“I found one!” 

Syrup nodded. “Certainly did. Let’s see what more we can find.”

Zeel worked circles around them. Warding off predators of the wood, other fairies and the arcane fog was a drain. He was eager for Gannon to be able to do this on his own. Recognizing his sword was a bad sign, Zeel thought. There was no way he was going to be able to guide the kid if he was surrounded by reminders. 

“Gannon, back away from that plant!” Zeel snapped. The boy lurched backward into Syrup. 

“But-”

“That one is seeded.” Zeel hovered over it. In the red light, the tiny green leaves were visible. “If you pluck it, it will snap at you. And you need your fingers.”

Zeel felt that he was stronger, both himself and the boy. His connection to the Triforce was growing, and that means the nightmares would get worse. Already Zeel could hear the echoes of them. He wondered if Link’s fairy saw the nightmares that he did. He tried not to think about what happened to Link’s fairy, because no matter how one slices it, something went wrong. Zeel helped them find more deku nuts. His pockets were filling up, but Granma Syrup had plenty of room to carry. This was going to be a single trip, if she could help it.

“Granma?”

“Hm?”

“Can we go to my old home?”

Syrup and Zeel met glances. They had an exchange of concern that Zeel didn’t know they were close enough to have. Apparently, when it came to the boy they were roughly on the same page. Neither of them thought the glade was a good idea. 

“I think the Temple needs some time to itself.” Zeel stammered. “It’s not used to living with people, and we were there a long time. It just needs some Temple Time.”

Gannon giggled. “The Temple of Time needs some Temple Time so it can be the Time Temple.”

This was funny the first time. It was impressive that the got the words out the first time. By the twelvth time, they wished they had just gone to the glade. Gannon was still saying it sporadically on the way home by broomstick. He was still trying to say it when they flew onto the grass outside the house, but he was falling asleep. Syrup carried the Zora boy up the steps. Zeel had a hard time opening the door for her, but he managed. 

“Maple can you-” Syrup looked inside the house. The potion was boiled away, the solid ingredients scorched to ash on the bottom. Maple was sitting on the floor, with her back to the door. “Maple? What happened here?”

She barely looked up. Her face was streaked with tears, her eyes boiling with anger. Syrup barely saw the girl’s hands over her shoulder. In them was a piece of gauze with heartfelt missive written into it. In her other hand, was a photo of herself as a little girl, well-worn and heavily creased. 

Syrup was too tired. Maple launched herself at Syrups’ arms and tore the sleeping Gannon from her. Zeel beat Maple against her shoulders to get her to stop. She shook the boy awake, and kept shaking. The entire house echoed with the haunting, with the curse, with the fury of a broken heart. 

“You did this!” Maple howled. ”You did this to us! I warned you, and I meant it! My father is dead now because of you! You will never be free of the suffering you cause! I curse your father, your mother, and every child you ever hold as you own!”

Syrup pulled them apart with the last of her waning strength. She wrapped up Maple in her shawl, and sat her in a chair. She carried Gannon to the couldron. She siezed Zeel by his wings and squeezed him over the pot until he had no dust to shed. Wheezing, she set him down on the table. In the ashes of what was a burnt potion, Syrup bathed the boy. She rubbed the ashes deep into his skin, his hair, between his fingers and toes. She wrapped him up in a collection of dishtowels and put him in the tub. She let him lay there in an empty tub, with no water, while she ran to Maple.

She wanted to scold her. She wanted to reel into the girl about the danger of curses, and the toll they take on the soul who casts them. She looked at the gauze in her granddaughter’s hands. If it was not for the dye used on the gauze, the tears would be causing the missive to run. Syrup held her granddaughter tight. She tucked the girl under her chin, and the household mourned the death of a good man. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	12. Know Your Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so here comes the inevitable part of any Legend of Zelda fic, where we patch together some concepts from the series to suggest their idea what happened in the beginning, and why everything is a mess.

“Impa!” The guard lurched to attention. She saluted him, and then kept going. Without new orders, he did what he knew to do. He stayed put. Following Impa through the narrow pass were several exhausted soldiers. They were not exactly excited to see that their haven was under alert. They rushed in, weary and still needing medical attention. 

Impa came back to him quickly. “Why did Zelda send you?”

“Link and the mother of Gannon were arrested.”

“Who else knows?”

“I passed the message to Hern, in case I couldn’t give the message myself.” 

Impa nodded. It wasn’t ideal, he knew that, but she didn’t seem angry, either. She handed him a piece of rock, swaddled in dusty cloth. It was a shard of rock, jagged and uneven. It had many edges that rippled across its surface, defying any formal shape. It was like obsidion, but not completely opaque. Stars glittered within, perhaps, but the darkness was too suffocating to see them clearly. It was the serene of night and the smog of the city in a stone. The guard thought to himself that it didn’t belong here, somehow.

“Keep it in the fabric at all times.” Impa said. “Do not touch it with your hands. Take it to Zelda. Tell her to keep it safe until we have more information for her to understand it by.”

The guard hesitated. “Should… I wait until we know some… anything about it?”

“I’d love to,” Impa sighed. “But also tell her this: we are evacuating, and we are afraid that the equipment may not survive. We are gathering all the data we have for her now. Go.”

He had no further questions. He did not have a horse to take him most of the way this time. He took a deep breath, and then with all of his training as a guard, he booked it. On his journey a Postman would see him run. Before he reached the Castle, a good word was put in for him at the Post Office. This was a guard with potential.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The gate opened. It was narrow, and cold, but oh so familiar. The gate itself was in place, but as he reached to go through it, it snapped shut. Everything was too early. Everything was hasty and dissheveled. He knew that nothing good would come of any of this. Sometimes an opportunity was a false one. 

He heard the voice. He heard his master, but the call was too early. The call was not complete, either. As soon as the gate opened, it shut. He sat in the darkness. It was just as well. His master wasn't strong enough. 

Then he thought, well, if my master is not strong enough, would he not need someone to protect him? Perhaps he should have left the thinking to others. It was a tumbling sense of confusion. Thankfully, others had been thinking. Like a hook trapped in a mouth, something from beyond the gate forced it open. It was a great effort, he knew. This time he would not waste it on hesitation. How fortunate he was to get a second chance so quickly.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Morning came too soon. Gannon sat up in the tub. He was swaddled in dishrags and blankets and the tub was filled with pillows. Ashes and fairy dust covered every surface. Maple was fast asleep against the side of the tub, her arm draping over the side. The night before hit him like a train. He scooped up one of the blankets and threw them over Maple’s shoulders. It landed mostly on the floor next to her.

“You’re awake.” Zeel sat on the faucet for the tub. He didn’t look so good. “That’s a good sign.”

Gannon laid back into the pillows. “Yeah.”

Zeel fluttered down next to Gannon and sat on the pillows beside his ear. Gannon couldn’t stop looking at Maple. Her face was red, her eyes were still losing a tear or two in her sleep. Her hair was a wreck. Her dress was covered in soot and in stains. 

“They were working all night to make sure the curse didn’t stick,” Zeel explained. “Your mother should be fine. We sent a fairy to the castle with a warning, so that they can watch her heath. You’ll be taking a soot bath twice a day until we know it’s over with. It’s a good thing Maple burned that potion.”

“Where’s Granma?”

“She’s in the kitchen. Still had to finish that order.”

“Right.” Gannon pushed himself up out of the pillows. They slid all over the tub, making it a hard bed to escape. He tiptoed past Maple, out of the bathroom and into the hall. Wherever he walked he tracked ash and soot. He stumbled into the kitchen still wrapped in dishtowels.

“Thank the goddesses, you’re awake.” Syrup slid another log under the couldron. She had cleaned it and retreated it, so now the outside shone like new. The kichen smelled of nutmeg and vanilla. Syrup reached over the counterspace and handed Gannon a mug. A sprig of cinnimon stuck out of the mug. “Drink up.”

It was amazing. It was a rich, sweet, smooth flavour Gannon had never tasted before. It was easily his favourite the second it touched his lips. It was creamy and bubbly, seasoned and heralded everything good in the world. Gannon was quiet. 

“Gannon.”

“Hm?”

“Have you never had chocolate before?”

“What’s chocolate?”

There was a gasp and a yawn from the bathroom. “ _ What do you mean, what’s chocolate? _ ”

There was a thud, an oof, and then a mad skitter from the bathroom into the kitchen. The smell of a proper cup of coco overtook Maple. It revived her. She brushed her hair out of her face and stumbled to the counter. A mug sat with her name on its side, and a tiny plate over its top. Condensation dripped down the plate and onto the counter. 

All of Maple’s excitement drained with a single sip. She stood at the counter, not entirely present. Maple hugged her mug and turned to her grandmother. Syrup gently lifted the mug out of her hands and held the girl tight. Gannon stood awkwardly to the side. For the first time, he felt truly lonely. It felt too familiar.

Maple broke free of the hug to go back to her hot coco. She turned back to Gannon, and sat in the wicker chair next to him. “My father used to make this for me. He’s the one who perfected the recipie.”

Gannon didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. 

“I know who you are,” Maple said, “or rather, I know who you’re supposed to be. Dad knew his job was dangerous, but he knew that if he didn’t do his job, more people would die. That’s why I’m going to help you.”

Gannon was lost. To his credit, so was Zeel and Syrup. They waited for a weighted moment. Syrup sipped her hot coco quietly. There were two important parts of being a Witch, Syrup had said. The first was knowing your potions and their purposes. There was a lot to learn there and Maple had a long way to go. However, the second was harder to teach; to control the room. For that, Maple was a natural. 

“If anyone is going to stop those monsters, it’s their King.” There was a bitterness, an animosity in her tone. It worried Syrup, and terrified Zeel and Gannon. “I’ve known you a week, and I can see it. Even if you knew where my father was, you would not be able to stop them. From now on, you are my brother. As your big sister, it will be my job to make sure you have everything you need to take your throne, and do good with it.”

“First a curse, and now an oath?” Zeel leaned in. “Maple I know you are dealing with a lot right now, so maybe you should wait before making any big decisions.”

“No.” She crossed one leg over the other. “I’m hurt, and I’m angry, but these feelings are real and they are me. I will not always be hurt and angry, but I will always be me.”

Zeel sighed and turned to Syrup. He was too tired for this, and frankly so was Syrup. Syrup was thinking by stirring the potion that still needed to finish cooking. She banged the landle against the edge of the couldron. 

“If you are serious about this,” Syrup finally spoke, “Then you will take your broom, Maple. Fly to the Zora market, and take the trinket savings box with you. You two will choose tokens to swear your oath by.”

Maple finished her coco too quickly, burning her tongue. She pretended she hadn’t. She marched to her room and got her broom. As Syrup had done the night before, she tapped her broom’s handle against the hardwood and then let it go.

“Not so quickly.” Syrup looked away from the potion. “We still need to make sure the curse you put on him last night has dissolved. Neither of you are leaving the hut for a week. In the meantime, be sure what you want to swear and why you want to swear it. Gannon, you may want to consider what you want your own oath to be. A strong oath cannot be one sided.”

“Hold on, witch.” Zeel huffed. Gannon cupped his hands and Zeel fell into them. “You expect two children, one of which is five, both with a great deal on their plates already, to make an oath? I forbid it.”

“Do you truly feel that Maple will be a detriment to your charge, fairy?”

“She cursed him last night.”

“And if you’ve forgotton, that same girl worked herself to sleep to undo it.”

“They’re children!”

“The world does not wait until you are grown to be terrible.” Syrup looked him dead in the eye. “I have seen enough of that first hand. They must wait the week through, and if they are still resolved, as I have rarely seen a child resolved for anything more than two hours, then they will make their oaths. Is that fair to you, fairy?”

“Not really, but I have a feeling that doesn’t matter.”

“No. If your guidance did not matter, his father would not have gone through so much to bond you together.” Syrup pulled a canning jar from her cuboard. “Maple, help me seal these up for packaging. Gannon, take those nuts and crack them open. Do it over the bowl so we don’t lose the water.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The village had candles on every windowsill, even the homes that were not claimed yet. The women were all gathered, most of them with cats in their laps, in the center. The trade booths had been closed to make room for all the people. The Village Elder sat on a little chair in the center. This was a tradition she was eager to see for herself. The young girls sat in the inner ring, all collected together. There were baked treats and bubbly drinks, water painted with the petals of flowers treasured for centuries. In the center circle was one Gerudo, who drew in the dirt of the village.

“Long ago, when the Goddesses were young, and time itself younger, the Goddesses Din, Nayru and Faore created the world.” As she drew in the sands, the Gerudo women of the outer ring chanted. It was a rhythm, it was a song, and the words scooped up the sand to the wind. Thin shifts and shapes, drew out the colours in the grains of the earth, and like the Stained Glass of the temples, the pictures of the earth sprung to life. The girls had never seen anything like it. It had been so long since the last Rememberance, many of the younger mothers did not know the song.

Red earth, like clay, like embers on a dying fire, leaped into place. The suggestion of Din casting a spell over the dust flashed like fireworks. The flower-painted water danced upward like flying dragons into the shape of Nayru, laying the firmaments over Din’s fire.  Segments of grass, the green glint of sand and the twinkle of starlight leaped up to suggest Faore, coaxing the life from the embers and water. As Faore fall back to the circle around the speaker’s feet, the three Goddesses twisted together overhead, over the crowd, over the village. Some of the cats swatted at it.

“But the world they created was imperfect,” said the speaker. The Goddesses would dip from their place flying over the crowd and touch the heads of the Gerudo women, leaving dirt and grass and water all over the place. “But the more they tried to fix it, the more mess they made, until neither of them were happy. And so, they made a decision.”

The dust beneath them rumbled. Many of the girls clung together, while many others whooped with delight. The dust rose up like a wave from the far edges of the group. It cast shadows over them like a beast before its prey. Dust underneath them was still rising, like a drizzling rain gone wrong. Hush fell over them. In a quiet moment, like a sea before the storm, the narrator waited.

“They buried it all.”

The dust crashed over them like a stormy sea against the cliffs. Girls screamed and they ducked into one another to escape the dust. When they expected to breathe it in, it splashed against a dome of twinkling light. The dome covered the entire crowd, the whole of the market square. It barely held the dust over the Narrator who stood in the center. From the candles on the widowsills, the fires burrowed through the dome to provide lights within. The narrator waited for the audiance to calm down.

“Lost and forsaken, the people prayed for their Goddesses to come back.” The older women called out themselves, and around the girls, tiny clay figures threw up their arms and prayed with dancing and wailing. “What have we done wrong? Why have you abandoned us?”

“Din, the Goddess of the Earth and fires within, heard their cries as they resounded against the burial.” The flames within the dome rose through the earth and created a figure of fire, barely visible through the dust. It passed over them like a whale passes a ship. “A Goddess of Passion, she was moved by by their cries. She knew that it was not by their transgressions that the Goddesses were unhappy, and she saw the injustice for what it was.”

A hand of fire reached down through the dome. It broke through the dust and the dust melted, turned to stone before it hit the floor, and then shattered into soft, black earth. From the black earth the flaming hand rose up a figure of clay, akin to the others that prayed. It stood tall, eyes red with embers and hair of fire. Underneath the new figure, the earth rose up. A pillar with a ramp swirling around its sides raised the ember-eyed to the top of the dome. The clay figures ran up the ramp to join the Din-Born. As the pillar approached the dome, the Din-Born raised its hands and tore through the hole that Din’s hand had left behind. 

The dust turned. The dome fell backwards over itself and flipped inside out. The dust gathered around the feet of the narrator. It swirled around her and the pillar the clay figures climbed. Grass from Faore coated the dust as it settled into a hill that stood around the Narrator’s waist. The clay figures came out of the hill, and saw that all aroudn them was lush and vibrant. 

“They saw that not only had the Goddesses deserted them, but they had started over, and made new creatures to love and care for. They could not deny their jealousy.” The Narrator opened her hand to the clay figures, and the ember-eyed climbed aboard. “In their anger, and their hurt, they declared war.”

The Narrator lifted up the ember-eyed figure so that the whole audiance could see. “They called out to Din, and made their final prayer. We want the power to create, to live, so that we can care for ourselves.”

“Then go,” The Narrator whispered in a different voice to the wavering of the figure of flames. “Down to the valley, where the temple sits. There, reach out and take the power that I give to you.”

New clay figures appeared at the base of the hill, but these were coated with green of the grass and the blue of the painted water, some even made of the petals themselves. One was taller than all the others, kneeling in the grass in the center. The clay figures raced down the hill and descended on the grassy ones with violence. Grass and water was scattered, clay was shattered, and many of the figures turned to dust. The ember-eyed and the giant met. As they clashed, the ember-eyed reached out to the giant’s heart. There, three golden triangles spun. Overcome with fires, the ember-eyed figure siezed one of the triangles for itself. 

“And so Din gave her power to the buried, to their King, who was to lead them into a world that they could sustain on their own.” The Narrator’s tone fell into a sorrowful harmony. “But the Giantess of the newborns feared for her people. After losing the Triforce of Power to those consumed with wrath, she feared that her people would be destroyed. She sent the defenseless to the heavens where the buried could not reach them, and of herself, she made a Hero to defend them…”

The Giant figure reached into itself, and pulled out another piece of the Triforce, and made a small clay figure of their own. Clad in green, it slept in her hands. Without all three pieces of the triforce, the giant lost much of its figure to the earth around it. Two small figures sat in the dust, one made of green grass, and the other of blue flower petals. The ember-eyed gazed down on them. 

“Fear and Anger clashed,”

The green figure got up, with a single blade of grass for a sword, and struck against the ember-eyed clay. The grass pierced through the clay between the eyes. A strike of lightning came down, breaking the ember-eyed back to crumbles of black dust. 

“And their King fell. The buried, for their just anger, were sealed back into the darkness. Without sunlight, without the love of those who created them, they were lost and abandoned.”

The dust hill scattered on a sudden breeze. The flames of the candles returned to their wicks, the water back to their cups and bowls. The grass returned to their roots in the earth. The Narrator stretched. “There is more to this story, but first, we eat.”

Mesol and her sisters stood up and stretched themselves. Her sisters had a thousand questions, a thousand statements, but Mesol was stunned. The narrator split apart from the group. She was handed a plate, and left alone to rest. Mesol could see how tired she was. Mesol decided to respect her rest; she found one of the older women to ask her question to. 

“How does she do that?”

“It is an old gift,” the Gerudo smiled. “Are we not Din’s daughters? Come, eat, dearheart. There will be time for questions in a bit.”

Mesol sat with her sisters, because she was, in fact, quite hungry. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Loamol felt lonely in a deep and visceral part of her being. Though she was glad to be back among women (living with Link was a lesson in the peculiar behaviours of men) she was still the only Gerudo. She was the only one of her people in the entire castle. The only connection to her family, her people, her home were in books in the library, written by Hylians. 

Phila was deliberately kind. She was more or less the mother figure of the kitchens. She was gentle, believed deeply in the compassion of Nayru, and the one-woman spokesperson for a full night’s sleep. She did her best to hush the slurs and jipes of the other girls against Gerudo, now that one was among them, but old habits and gossip were hard to quash. This left Loamol either alone, stuck with the most unfortunate tasks of the castle, xor most frequently, both. 

She was carrying bags of waste out to the compost when her bracelet lit. She looked around, but there was no one. She looked at the castle walls, but they were a good ways off. She had been to the compost before- there had been trouble then. 

<Loamol.> Link’s voice rang through her core, up her arm and through her ears like a wind. <Hello?>

“Hello?” <Where is he?>

<I’m on patrol in the Lower Quarter,> he said. 

<How are you doing this?> Loamol wanted to think through herself. She could feel that Link was thinking, but it was coming through as the crackling of a fire. Perhaps he was talking to someone else? 

<Zelda made them like this on purpose,> Link explained, <but I do not know if she can hear us now.>

Loamol had too many thoughts for the device to carry. They bounced through her. She dare not say them, in case a guard was listening. Eventually they came together to prioritize one sentance. <Is my son safe?>

<He’s with someone I trust.> She could feel the delicacy in which he said Trust. It wasn’t a complete trust. It was the kind that made one predictable, and therefore their sins calculatable. It was a ‘devil you know is better than one you don’t’ sort of trust. <It is a temporary measure.>

Loamol poured food waste and animal waste into the compost. It was an unpleasant experience. <Do you have a plan?>  
<Zelda frets for the Council.> Link thought it through. Plans always come together more easily when thoughts are expressed. <Apparently they have ill will for the Triforce and its bearers…>

<Does that not also mean that you and the princess are equally in danger?>

<One…> He was interrupted, perhaps asked a question. <One problem at a time.>

Loamol did not think they were seperate problems. She knew not to say anything while Link was already frustrated. He would get there. 

<Well, working in this wing of the castle certainly has its advantages. These women gossip like nobles.>

She could see him nodding his head. <That  _ is _ good…>

They were both occupied by the task at hand for a moment. She finished emptying the bags into the compost, tore up the bags as she had been taught, and laid them on top in an almost ceremonial manner. The few fragments of thoughts that made it through from Link’s end were about broken cobblestones and the smell of urine. 

<Are you alright?> Link asked it like an obligatory question. 

She nodded, more to herself than to him. <I am in good health.>

<Health is more than the body.> It sounded like something that was said to him on many occasions. <If you are unwell, or in harm’s way, tap the bracelet. It makes escape a bit difficult, as I suspect it tells Zelda where we are.>

<Do you think she is listening?> 

<I hope she is.>

There was silence.

<I said, I hope she is.>

Again, there was silence.

<Fine, I’m listening.> Zelda’s tone was tense. <It’s not something I can turn off.>

<Do you also have a bracelet like this for my son, your Highness?> Loamol asked. 

<I do, but as I do not know where he is, I cannot find a means of getting it to him.>

There was a quiet while the women waited for Link to speak. They could feel him huff and give in. <If you send me near where he is, I can give it to him. I do not mind you knowing, but any means in which you know on your own, someone else will find out. If you send soldiers, they will ask why. If you send a bird, they will track it.>

He suddenly stopped, and she knew he had been interrupted again. She was left in the warmth of decaying compost with chills in her bones. She felt helpless. She just… wanted to hold her son and tell him he would be alright. She felt a heavy pang of longing for her daughters too, and she made a note to pray to Din when she had her privacy.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Hey, Nightlight.” Tamo nudged Link’s shoulder. Link looked up through his helmet. The others were a few feet behind and staring at him. “Just because you could trounce us in a fight doesn’t mean you can wander off on your own.”

[Sorry.] He signed. They didn’t know sign, but they could guess. As he signed they noticed the bracelet. It was glowing, a serene blue like stained glass. 

Ko was the one who pointed to it. “Are you uh, in trouble or somethin’?”

Link shook his head, no. He signed, [Not yet.]

“So… is the Princess just… checking in on you?”

Link shrugged. Eh.

“That’s a wife for you.” Ko chuckled. “Not a moment’s peace.”

Link folded his arms and scowled in protest.

“Oh please.” Lo smirked wide. “Aren’t you formally betrothed?”

Link raised his eyebrows and shook his head.  

“So wait, everyone just… assumed.” Ato folded his arms now in protest. “Well, that’s just rude.”

Link shrugged. It did happen before, and it would happen again, at some point. The question was if it would be this lifetime or the next.

“Well, if her highness pleases, you need to get back to work.”

<Is it possible we can meet later?> It was Loamol who asked, though Link was thinking the same question. 

<Not all together.> Zelda sighed. <Too suspicious. You, however, have more mobility. I will call for you in a little while.>

The bracelet went dim, then turned off completely. Link settled back into the here and now. Tamo handed him the clipboard. Link glanced it over. There was nothing remarkable about it. It seemed in order. He took the charcoal pencil from the top and drew his signature on the line. When he looked up, the rest of the squad was staring at him. 

[What?]

“He’s hopeless.” Lo shook his head. “We’re going to have to take this into our own hands.”

Tamo knocked Lo across the helmet with a pair of stiff fingers. “Just because you’re right, doesn’t give you the right to say it.”

Link flipped over the clipboard and wrote on the back. [I have bigger concerns then trying to get her attention. Thanks.]

“Yeah, alright.” Ko narrowed his eyes. “Say you do get everything in order. Right. Hyrule’s all protected, there’s peace again, you’re forgiven for endangering it in the first place-”

“Dude.” Tim ushered some bystanders on. 

“-then what? Just, gonna be all ‘Hey, I’m done with my chores wanna start a family?’” Ko stuck out a finger at Link. “You gotta remember, she’s got options.”

Link wiped off the clipboard with his sleeve. Charcoal was everywhere. [You say that like I don’t.]

“I mean, well, sure, but not like her.” Lo leaned on Ko’s shoulder. “I mean, with her you’re set for life.”

Link erased the board again. [A stressful life. A trapped life. A life where I am seperated from my son-]

Link looked at the board. There it was. His own handwriting stared him in the face. The squad circled around him to read it. Tamo patted his back. 

“There you go.”

Link gave him a quizzical look. 

“You’ve been talking in your sleep since you moved in.” Tamo reached over with his sleeve and erased the clipboard. He plucked the charcoal from Link’s fingers and clipped it at the top. “Come on. I reserved the bath for us tonight. You don’t have to do everything alone, anymore. We’ll soak, we’ll talk, and I’ll keep Ko and Lo from drowning you repeatedly.”

“You’re no fun, man.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Zelda stood in her room with all of Hyrule tacked up with layered maps along her wall. She had pins and thread and stickers all up and down the maps. She had a little wooden figure of a snake in her fingers to fidget with. She always felt it was a bad habit she picked up from Link, fidgeting, but it did help her think. 

“Your Highness?” It almost startled her. His voice was a gasp, a wheeze. He was standing tall, but only because he had a spear to lean on. His face was white and his armour was soaked. “Impa sends her regards.”

“Ratal, what happened?” Zelda took him by the arm and sat him down at her desk. He half collapsed onto the back of her chair. Other guards rushed up behind him. In his hand he put a piece of bundled rock on her desk. “Was that your horse that sent the alarm for Horon Village?”

He nodded. “I think it was a diversion.”

Zelda stood up straight. “What leads you to that conclusion?”

“During the fight for the village,” he took a breath, “The monsters around the researchers got wild. Impa says they’re trying to collect the last of the research. She said the equipment may not survive, and not to touch that rock with your hands.”

Zelda observed the stone. The jagged edges and inconsistant opaqueness made it quite the interesting rock. The glittering inside of it made Zelda think it might be an attractive gemstone. The fact that it could be dangerous had her attention fully. She turned to one of the guards that had followed Ratal in. 

“Bring me two things: first, the historical records from the 14th era, I believe volume seven, bring volume eight just in case. Second, bring me the woman Loamol. If she is in the middle of a task, accompany her for the remainder of the task, then bring her to me.”

The guards bowed and split off. Zelda reached across her desk and poured Ratal a glass of water from the pitcher. He thanked her with a nod, then grabbed the pitcher. He polished it off and the water dribbled down his chin. Zelda helped herself to the glass. 

Once he had pulled himself together, he shifted so he could lean back in the chair. He realized that in the presence of the Princess he ought to stand, but his legs didn’t have it in him. She didn’t seem to be worried about that now. She was busy adding notes to her map wall. She tacked questions onto a slip of paper and added it to the research cavern. 

“Was it a direct attack?”

“No?” The guard leaned forward to help him think. “Hern was saying that… the energy itself didn’t seem to be a weapon. Instead it was… the foundation of what they were trying to do. The energy served a purpose.”

“One of the researchers?”

“No, one of the soldiers. I don’t know his rank, sorry.”

Zelda nodded and scribbled things in. She muttered to herself, drawing extra lines and fishing through her drawers for more thread. It was going to be difficult to see the map under the notes, soon.

“Pardon my asking, Princess,” he ventured, “but have you spoken to Link at all?”

“Yes.” She still seemed preoccupied. 

“I mean, really talked to him.”

She dropped her hands. Exhausted from the subject already, she made a visual show

of maintaining her composure. “Do you have a particular interest in my affairs?”

He nodded. He knew he was in the wrong for this. “Forgive us, Princess, but it’s just… nice to talk about something other than the monsters and the world burning around us. A little… forgive me for saying so, your highness, drama-ridden romance is, well, refreshing.”

She turned back to her map. He couldn’t read her posture. She was getting too good at that. She focused on her map until she finished her train of thought. She stood back from the wall and looked all of Hyrule over. 

“I can’t say I blame my people for that.” She said it with a sigh of acceptance. “I just wish it wasn’t about me. Why not someone from the council? Or a noble from another of the cities? I have enough to worry about without petty romance plaguing my thoughts.”

“If it helps you, I believe he feels the same.” Loamol stood in the doorway. Zelda was genuinely startled this time. Loamol was deep in a curtsey, well trained and perfected. She still stood taller than many of the servants in the castle. “You called for me, your highness?”

“I did, thank you.” She turned to the guard collpased at her desk. “Please return to your quarters to rest.”

He knew enough to push himself to his feet, bow, and shuffle out of the room. The guard that brought up Loamol helped him back to his quarters. They left the door open, and the guard posted down the hall kept and eye on Loamol. 

“You were swift,” Zelda noted. 

“I was nearby,” she said. “How may I be of assistance to you?”

“How are you adjusting?”

“I am in good health.” Loamol offered. “Thank you, for your concern for me.”

Zelda looked her in the eye. “You know that is not the question I asked. It took us years to teach Link to understand that his anger and his nightmares were poisoning him. I will not have you suffer the same.”

Loamol found herself smiling. “Please forgive me, Princess. Returning to the capitol city is complex for me. It is both my home, and yet also the place I fled. My loved ones are far, but the wounds are fresh. None of these things can be cured with hospitality.”

“I appreciate your honesty.” Zelda nodded. She gestured to the chair on her desk. “I have precious few people around me who are honest. I understand you aim to be polite, but between us the knowledge is worth more than my pride.”

“Yes, your highness.” Loamol curstied, just a bit. “As you wish.”

“Good,” Zelda cast a side glance to her. “Then tell me about your son.”

Loamol had expected it. Still, it made her dreadfully uncomfortable. “I miss him. He was born much smaller than my daughters. He has these tiny, fat fingers… he’s the best at poking holes in the soil to plant seeds. He’s beautiful. His hair will be as long as any of us, when we are together again I will teach him to braid it.”

Zelda hadn’t expected such a gentle narrative. Zelda’s eyes fell. “Does he suffer nightmares as bad as Link does?”

Loamol nodded. “He was eight months when they started happening. Your hero held him through the night. He’s had night terrors since. Sometimes three times a week. It is… worrisome.”

“Terrors?” Zelda furrowed her brow to remember. “He cannot move?”

“Most often, no.” Loamol fiddled with her hands. “He just sits up, and his face is screaming but he has no voice. He cries, and he remembers in the morning how much it hurts him. I have tried everything, but I cannot make them stop.”

“I’m sorry.” The Princess noted them down, and put the notes near the Temple of Time. It was the easiest place to organize the information for now. Then she thought about it. “Was Link suffering them more, too?”

“Not… exactly.” Loamol had to think about how she wanted to say it. “Though his nightmares were as frequent, the severity of them were less. Perhaps he has learned to control them, more. When he was at his worst, however, I had to seal our shelter. Sometimes he would enter the temple, but…”

Zelda didn’t want to ask the question. “Did he attack you?”

“Never while he was himself.” Loamol muttered. “In my son’s first year, it only happened once, but he did draw his sword against us. He left for a week into the Wood. After that, anytime he rose in his slumber, he entered the Temple instead. Sometimes he doesn’t, well, didn’t come out for days.”

Zelda sat down on the edge of her bed. It was a lot. She opened her mouth to speak, and shut it again. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how frightening this has been for you.”

“You lived with him too, yes?” Loamol’s voice was low, perhaps from years of being around the Temple. “I thought this would not be of no shock to you.”

“He has always sleepwalked,” Zelda sighed, “but he would just… go riding, or make a mess in the kitchen.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping, also?”

“Not as much as all that.” Zelda turned to the dreamcatcher up on the wall. It was lovingly made, with many mistakes in the netting. “My nightmares are more… traditional, if you can call them that. My troubles are while I wake, trying to decipher what is a child’s nightmare, and what is an omen.”

Loamol had a face. Zelda was good at reading faces. “Why, what did he tell you?”

“Tell me? Little. Of what he said in his sleep, he worried. Perhaps he was worried for you of another lifetime.”

Zelda dismissed the subject with a gesture of the hand. Loamol thought it funny that the princess dismissed her own thoughts as she would a servant. “The main reason I asked you here is an inquiry, and a suspicion.”

Loamol did not like the sound of that. 

“I recieved a fairy, a warning.”

“Of?”

“That you may be cursed.” Zelda nodded to the neatly folded scrap paper on the desk. Loamol picked it up. Reading it was difficult; the handwriting was a disaster- as if written under stress. There were stains on the paper; one of which glowed. “Almost as if reporting the flu. It appears they are dealing with the problem from the source, too.”

 

_ To whom cares for the Gerudo Mother, _

 

_ Be acutely aware of her health, as it may dramtically sour. She has been cursed, indirectly. Symptoms may include blackened nails, an allergy to chocolate, reckless behaviour and whitening of the hair or eyes. Should these symptoms arise, seek scholarly, not medical, attention. The matter is being addressed. _

“Indirectly?” Loamol read it twice. “They cursed me to harm someone else.”

“Exactly. And it seems they regretted it immediately.” 

Loamol was quiet. She stared at the stains. “Whoever they are, they have my son. That much is obvious.”

“I only recognize one stain, the glowing one. It’s designed to repell moblins.” Zelda tried not to smile, but she had a puzzle in her hands. “It’s common now, but it looks like this person brews. The other scent stain smells of Stamina Shrooms.”

Loamol sniffed the paper. She immediately regretted it. “Yes it does. So, someone who brews potions, and I would gather lives a good distance away. He took his lyre with him when he left, though I do not know how he uses it.”

“It means the person lives close to a Temple, close enough that your son, would find them on his own.” Zelda pushed off her bed and studied her map. She waved Loamol over. Zelda, with some coloured chalk, began making circles on the map. “These are the eight temples that I know of. There’s nine, if you could the Temple of Time shrine in the market square.”

“There, that’s the Temple of Time where we lived.” Loamol pointed to the map as she muttered. “This… I suspect is the Temple of Weeping Eyes, right by your picture of toothed-plants.”

“You can tell they’re toothed plants?”  
“My fourth child is five, your highness.” Loamol smiled. “A child’s artwork is the mastery of interpretation.”

“Well, I doubt your youngest would do well with toothed plants. I think Weeping Eyes can be ruled out.”

Loamol stared at the map. “If it is someone your hero knows, then they have been in business for a long time. They are adept at their craft, and with potions being a troublesome craft, anyone worth their salt would be quite busy in these times.”

“So close enough to trade, far enough not to be bothred with trifles.” Zelda muttered. They both looked to the center of the map. Lake Hylia sat there, unassuming. There were not any temples on the lake itself. The closest were the Temple of Shadows, a system of caverns underneath, and the Great Bay, at the end of the river. “Unfortunate.”

“What is?”

“Both temples were not ones he liked to talk about. We would need more information.”

There was a grunt at the door. The women looked to see a guard holding several volumes of books. “Princess, I mentioned you were researching a rock and the librarian made me take all of these.”

“Oh, excellent. Loamol, set them on the desk for me.” 

Loamol bowed shortly and helped the guard unload the books onto the desk. At first she had thought the guard on the weak side, but after lifting some of the books herself, she thought better of it. What under the Goddesses were they made of?! The guard moved to thank her, but hesitated. Loamol was used to it. 

“I have work to do.” Zelda announced. “You are both dismissed.”

They wordlessly performed their formal gestures and backed out of the room. Zelda shut the door behind them. The guard didn’t know what to say to Loamol. In liu of anything of substance, he said, “She gets kinda testy when she’s interested in something. Don’t take it to heart.”

Loamol looked at the door. “I worry for her.”

The guard found a warm smile. “You’ve been with Link too long. The princess is capable. I’ll escort you back; don’t need anyone giving you trouble.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	13. Open Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Alcohol Use in Chapter]

The Wizrobes cut through the amber, the charged resin and the debris. They cackled between themselves. Their shadows cast over a blade. It’s blade was not straight like the ones in the Zora Market. Instead, over a dark hilt a blade of diamonds, layered end over end, sported no conventional edge. The Wizrobes lifted it so that the sword could stand on its hilt. They chanted, or chatted, somehow both. Much like a child’s doll, the sword found a way to turn itself inside out. The sword was then a platinum-blond jester, quite possibly with a hangover.

“What?” The Once-A-Sword-Jester stared at the Wizrobes. “Where is our master?”

The Wizrobes cackled. They danced on the air.  _ What master? _

“I heard his voice,” he said. “He called me.”

_ No, no. _ They answered.  _ We set you free. Inadvertantly. The gate is too small. No matter. You have served your purpose. We will start again. _

He squinted. “Where is our King?”

They kept dancing.  _ Don’t know. Don’t care. _

“Your insolence is distasteful,” he said, knowing full well who he was talking to. The words were better spent on lesser, more cooperative creatures. “We should be putting our efforts into reclaiming him, lest he be led astray by the worms.”

_ Then go, already. _ One rolled its eyes. 

They would kneel when his eminance came. They would see his power and his authority over them in time. Building the gate was useful; no reason to take them from it. He loosened the cloak at his neck. It had been a while. He smelled blood, real blood. The jester scrambled down the amber and black stone into the caverns. He followed his nose. The damage from the gate ran deep. Then he found wires. Oh, yes. He followed them through the maw of the earth until he reached a metal plate that had been torn open. Paper mache rocks lay toppled on the floor. 

“Announce yourself,” a voice demanded. A woman? Uninteresting. 

The jester bowed. “Very well. I am Ghirahim, and I am looking for my master.”

The woman leaped down from the support beams drilled into the ceiling. Clad in black, she wore a symbol he vaguely recognized. She gently rose to her full height. She was every so slightly taller than he. Ah, now she was intriguing. 

“Your insignia,” he smiled, “Are you lost, daughter?”

“I am no daughter of yours.” She held up a shard of black rock. “Are you willing to enlighten me on what this is?”

“It is a shard of common stone.” He shrugged. “It has followed me from home. Are you not a Sheikah?”

She pocketed it. Where, he couldn’t quite tell. Her garb allowed her to appear sleek, but also conceal a great multitiide of anything. “I am.”

“And yet you swear no allegience?”

“My loyalty is to the throne.”

“Which one?”

“The only true throne, the throne of Hyrule.”

“You disappoint me.” Ghirahim slouched. “I was hoping you were one of the fun Sheikah. One of our Sheikah. No matter, master will be happy to bring you into the fold. Tell me, daughter, what has the throne misnamed you?”

Impa squited. “I have chosen the name Impa for myself.”

His eyebrows rose. “Ha! Delicious. Come, Impa. We haven’t much time to lose. Master is terribly grumpy when left alone too long.”

Impa thought to herself several things. First, if this person could track down their research cavern, it could likely track Gannon. Second, she already hated him. Thirdly, if he was going to find Gannon, perhaps she ought to be there to intervene. The soldiers had evacuated, the researchers hidden among them. Impa had hoped to return to Zelda but, alas, things never go according to plan.

“I imagine he does.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Grandmother Syrup loved the Castle Town. It was thriving with noise and chaos, and as a certain little boy had taught her, it was easy to get away with most things in places like this. She kept her hands in her pockets. The shadow of the castle fell over the square like an elder sibling, standing in the spotlight. She did a small bout of shopping, She listened for where the doctors and nurses would be. On an old, well-worn map, she marked where the practices stood.

She stopped into the practices one at a time. She offered her services, coached some nurses, oversaw the expecting mothers. Though most nurses welcomed her in, the doctors were not so keen. “Doctor, step aside. I am looking for a specific patient.”

“Well I have no patience for you here.” Doctors always thought they were funny. “We work with real medicine here, witch.”

“Manufactured medicine for manufactured diseases.” Syrup hissed. “I am looking for someone with darkening nails, and an allergy to chocolate. They may look like they are going blind.”

The doctor hesitated and tried to hide it. That was all she needed. She shoved the doctor against his own counter and bouldered past him. She shouted to a nurse. “I need ash, and ideally radishes. I’ll take any honey you have.”

The nurses did not need to fluster or rally. They knew where to find these things and, more importantly, how to calmly take orders shouted over them. It happened often enough. Another nurse guided her to the patient she needed. 

An older hylian man lay in the bed, coughing up a fit. His fingernails were black at the roots, but still transparent at the tips. It was as she hoped. The curse was going for the father first, because Maple’s intentions were first to make her suffering equal. Loamol had more time before the curse would reach her. This man, however, was in terrible throws. The golden hair he was once so proud of was long since faded in colour, and the edges of his hair were turning to dust. 

“Who the hell are you?”

“Your mercy.” Syrup snapped.

“Where’s my doctor?”

“I dismissed him.”

“I don’t need no old bitty bitchin’ at me, I just want a cure!”

“Then stop talking so I can work.” She looked him over. He was unremakrable as a person, and her gut told her not to trust him. “How close are you to your son?”

He stared at her like a drunk stares at common sense. “I don’t have a son. I make sure of it.”

Syrup nodded. “Well, this is a family death curse. If your family loved you, you might be easier to save. Unfortunately, this is going to be a good piece of work.”

“You’re a damned madwoman. Doctor! Security!”

Syrup reached over for a syringe. She tapped the edges, and quickly shoved it into his vein. The man complained and shouted for a few minutes, and then he was asleep. Syrup shook her head. “You’re a good waste of medicinals, but you’ll be useful to have.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The Gerudo stacked their plates and together, they cleaned up the feast. It was just as much a part of the Rememberance as the feast itself. Mesol watched as her sisters, who she fought with to do chores in the home, voulenteered themeslves to work so that they could be with their friends. Mesol found herself taking pointers. 

“Why are you standing here?” The Village Elder stood up to Mesol’s waist. A young kitten balanced on her shoulders. “Festivities are to be participated in, not observed.”

“I’m just…” she gestured to her sisters, “enjoying what this means to them.”

“That’s good.” The woman tapped her shins lightly with her cane. “And what about you? What does this festival, these people, mean to you?”

  “They’re my people?” Mesol folded her arms, shifted her weight. “They’re my mother’s sisters. They’re the people my brother is supposed to lead.”

“So they are only losely connected to you, dear?” The elder helped the kitten get back to the ground. The kitten ran back to its mother. “Your sisters are learning to be family. Not just with you, and each other, but with the rest of the village. Perhaps you ought to consider the people within the village, and not what you are supposed to represent.”

“I…” Mesol watched as everyone filed back toward the circles where they sat for the Narrator. “I don’t understand that, completely.”

“That’s why it’s a journey, dearheart. Go, sit. If the first act is anything to tell by, this second act is going to be interesting.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He understood the concept. The bath was supposed to be relaxing, enough that he could get his nonsense off his chest, and be able to talk again. That sort of expectation made it almost impossible to relax. The squad nearly dragged him into the bathhouse, they showered, and reminded him that this was for his own health. Slipping into the water (as opposed to falling, diving or being thrown into) was a surprisingly plesant experience. The heat was perfect, and Link found himself melting into a space on the bench in the water. His head swam with chaos, but at least his feet were thrilled. 

“Goddess, it’s been forever since I’ve had a chance at the baths.” Tamo tilted his head back onto the stone. “Not while they’re hot, anyway.”

“There were plenty of opportunities.” Ato huffed. “You just decided to drag us to the training grounds instead.”

“It’s important.” Tamo insisted. “But so is proper rest, which no one has been getting.”

They all looked at Link. He sunk under the water a bit. 

Before Link could entirely disappear in the water, Lo pulled up a flagstone from the walkway. Underneath was a small wooden box. He set it gently in the water, where it floated. Ko rubbed his hands together. “Alright, everyone takes two drinks and passes it on.”

Tim raised his hand. “I can’t drink yet.”

“Normally, Tim, I’d argue with you.”

“But this time you’ll respect my decision?”

“No. I expect you to know that this is neither the time nor the place to not drink with us, saving me from the trouble of arguing with you.”

“Lo,” Tamo barked. “If he doesn’t want to drink, he doesn’t have to. Link will take his shots.”

“So everyone takes two, except for Tim, who won’t drink any because he’s scared his mum is gonna scold him, and Nightlight, who takes four, because seriously he needs to losen up.”

There was a hearty agreement from everyone but Link. He was remembering that Impa strictly forbade him from drinking. He now realized that he hadn’t seen Impa the entire few days he was here, which was odd, and also he was an adult, and damnit, he wanted to drink. They cracked open the worrisomly large bottle of spirits. 

Lo, a crooked but good sport, took his drinks first. “Alright, uh, I hate that we eat eggs every morning because I was sick of them by the time I turned eight.” 

Oh. It was this sort of thing. 

Ko took the bottle out of his hands. “Eggs? Lame. Here. Uh, my first kiss was to a Goron girl, who then dumped me in the lake and took my rupees. It was worth it.”

“How was that worth it?” Lo squinted. 

“I only had five rupees and she was a damn fine kisser.” Then Ko drank. “Ato, here.”

Ato drank his two drinks quickly. This would come back to haunt him in a few minutes. “It took me two years to figure out that Ko and Lo weren’t twins. Sometimes I still double-take.”

“Nah, that’s fair.” Tamo put up his feet on the bench and sank neck-deep into the water. “As far as I’m concerned they’re twins.”

“We’re not.” They objected, in perfect unison. Then also, perfectly, “Shove off.”

Tim took the bottle next. He didn’t drink from it, but he did hold it. “Ah, geeze. Uh, one time I accidentally stole a chicken because I was petting it, and when the old man tried to beat me with a stick for stealing his chicken, he hit the chicken instead?”

Link’s face hung open.  _ Noooo…. _

“I have been mildly afraid of chickens every since.”

Link nodded. That was a fair fear. To fear the chicken is to fear the Goddesses. Tim handed the bottle to Link, who now had to sit up. His hair stuck to his face. The stuff smelled ghastly, and it had been years since Link had anything to drink. Still, he had done less pleasant things. One, two, three, four. While Ato had drank a bit quickly, Link had thrown back like it was a potion. The next morning, he would realize was a mistake. For the immediate moment all he had were disgusted taste buds. He passed the bottle onto Tamo.

Tamo took his two drinks. “I’m married.”

“What?”

“When did this happen?!”

“Uh, three, four years ago?”

“Just… No invitations? No food? Just? What did you do, kidnap her?”

Link frowned. 

“Listen, if it worked for you, it could work for Tamo.”

Link did not have a reply for that.

“No, she’s a sweet girl. She’s just shy, yanno? Didn’t want a big thing. And I was gonna get promoted soon, so she didn’t want to shake it up? We’ll do a big to-do sometime, I guess. Now you know where I go on the weekends.”

 “How do I top that.” Lo took the bottle. “This is why I started with eggs. I started small. I wanted to work our way up but no.”

“Oh just drink, dumbass.” 

Tim gave Lo a thumbs up. “We know you’re more interesting than eggs. You’ve got this.”

“No one asked you, Tim.”

“Fine, be awkwardly plain and uninteresting.” Tim leaned back in the tub and all the water shifted with him. Link was suddenly aware that the drink was stronger than he gave credit for, and he could not move his head without the world taking a strong shift to the left. It felt like falling, but his butt was still on the stone. He decided to be very still. 

“Alright, I think I’ve got one.” Lo took heavier drinks this time than the first. “When Impa first asked me to be in the squad, I farted really bad and I think she noticed.” 

Link cracked. The laugher broke from his gut, and water poured into his mouth. The realm flipped upside down and He had to stop and focus on sitting up. Tim reached over and tapped him lightly on the back to get the water to come back up.

“When was the last time you had alchohol, man?”

Link reached over and grabbed the bottle. The squad leaned in. Link started with two drinks. “Fifteen. Impa banned me from alcohol after that.”

“What did you do?”

“Dunno.”

“Where did she find you?”

“Dunno.”

“Wait, wait.” Ato held up a hand. “We have better questions than this.”

Link took his other two drinks, then passed it back to Ko. The water was so warm. There was a cricket somewhere. He could still feel all the things that swarmed his mind, but they were… far. They were somewhere in a closet, banging on the door, but the liquer was like cotton in his ears. 

“Did you ever get to… yanno, make a move on the Princess?”

There was a silence. Link missed it. He put up a finger. 

_ Once. _

“It was after I fought Gannon. I was still recovering. After weeks of bedrest I was finally stable. Still, Zelda and I were pretty messed up about the whole thing. We didn’t sleep well, and well, sometimes I sleepwalk.”

“We know.” It was a resounding condemnation. He ignored it.

“Well, she was having a nightmare, so apparently I went in to comfort her.” Link leaned forward and the world shifted to accomodate for his movement. “Both of our pieces of the Triforce were active, and Zelda… doesn’t exactly remember things as much as she just…  _ knows _ things? Anyway, I just held her for a bit and we were able to calm ourselves down.”

This wasn’t the story they were expecting, exactly.

“And yanno, that was fine? Except uh, well, when our pieces are active, we’re ourselves, but all of us. So… Zelda and I kinda… forgot? Which us was the present? And we just... picked up where one of our lifetimes left off.”

“How old were you?!”

“Mentally? Eternal. Physically? Eleven. Zelda was thirteen.” How much that honestly disturbed him was all over his reddened face. “Impa found us pretty quickly. My room was then moved to the other side of the castle. I think we can see it from here; above the statue of Halon the Third. Impa watched me like a hawk after that. Which, actually, was probably how she knew where to find me when I borrowed the wine at fifteen.”

The squad fell quiet. Tamo occasionally shook his head. Ko and Ato nursed the bottle for a while. Link focused on keeping the world steady for a bit. Tim slid over to support him. 

“So wait,” Ko was starting to slur now. “You actually remember being married?”

Link nodded. He belched. He rested his head back on Tim. 

“It would be really easy to drown him right now,” Lo suggested. 

“If you want to kill me, do it in the sparring ring.” Link snapped. “Take up a real sword and earn it.”

“We couldn’t do that.” Tim patted Link’s shoulder.

“Sure we could.” Ko passed the bottle back to Lo. “All we gotta do is stab him; dies as easy as anybody, right?”

“Yup.” Link closed his eyes. “Good luck getting that strike home, though. It would be a good exercise in teamwork.”

“You’re cocky for someone who can’t hold up their head,” Tamo laughed. “I think we’ll take you up on that. But first, you gotta tell us what’s bothering you so much.”

“Right now? Nothing.”

“I’m not going back to you clamming up in the morning.” Tamo put his feet down and leaned in. “If this squad is going to be able to any of the chaos that the Princess plans, we need to be able to communicate. Last I checked, you’re used to only worrying about yourself. You run head-first, making it up as you go along. That’s not gonna cut it here. Understood?”

Link sighed. “Fine.”

Link had to go into that closet behind all the alcohol, take the cotton out of his ears, and then bring it all out. It was all tied together. Tim rubbed his back. Link decided Tim really didn’t deserve to be dragged into any chaos that Link was bound for, but was greateful to have him. 

“I don’t trust the council.” Link started. That was an easy truth. “They agreed to keep Loamol here, the mother, safe and sound. That doesn’t sound like them. They even agreed to let Gannon have an education here. I… I want him here, he’s my kid, and these past few days have been hell because though I trust the person I left him with, it’s not… It’s not the best place to grow up. It’s just… better than being alone in the wilderness. Especially now, especially for him. The one thing I want to do, give him a good life, I just… I can do all these things but be a stable parent. War? Easy. I’ve always done war. Peace? I don’t even know what it looks like. How am I supposed to give him that? If I screw this up,”

Link broke. Drunk, soaked, and for the first time in a lifetime, completely open, he broke. “If I fail, it will be back to fate, and I-I don’t want to fight him. I don’t want to have to murder my own son.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


	14. Death Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Link vs the Squad and... there is blood in this one. Bit gore-y.

The squad had looked forward to this the entire patrol. Even Tim was a bit too excited. Ko and Lo had spent the entire shift debating what happened when Link died. Ato tried to assure Link that they’d make it a swift death, and then after they would have a good laugh and supper. Tamo was a passive observer in all of it. 

“You are aware I still feel pain.” Link huffed. 

“But you die magically.” Ato furrowed his brow. “Doesn’t it stop hurting once you’re dead?”

“It actually still hurts when I get back up.” Link pointed to a set of crooked set of scars on his neck. “See these? I’ve been beheaded at least four times. Hurts for at least a fortnight. I drowned in sand the other day. Still cough up sand in the shower.”

“You coughed up sand in the bath, too. I was wondering where that came from.” Tim peeked into every dark alley, checking for damsels and wrongdoers. He was raised on the concept that patrols were for heroes, and he was determined to prove it. 

“How did you get beheaded?” Ko leaned in. His interest was entirely fascination. “Was it an Iron Knuckle?”

“Good guess, but no.” Link rattled off. “Usually die of what they do to the environment, not to me. No, uh, the first one was a Lizalfos. The other three are merciful deaths. Usually when I’m taking too long to die to a poison or something. This one and this one, no, this one were Impa. That one was Loamol.”

“Mercy deaths? That’s lame.”

“Listen, I’d rather die in a few minutes than take several days.” Link jabbed a finger into Ko’s chest. “Long deaths are the worst. It hurts, I feel sick, and I can’t get anything done.”

“Let me correct your statement.” Tamo laughed. “You hate long deaths because you get  _ bored _ .”

Link threw up his hands. “YES.”

 

At the sparring grounds, the squad took their sweet time choosing their weapons. To make this faster, Link had left his patrolling armour on the side. He stood in his smallclothes, stretching. He retied his hair a few times until it finally lay flat on top. A few pushups, a few handstands. He refused to admit that he had not been practicing enough when he lived in the glade. Granted, he was focused on raising Gannon, not fighting an army, but he scolded himself all the same. Windows were opening in the castle. Faces were gathering around the edges. Word spread fast. 

“Are you sure about this?” Tamo brandished a sword and stepped onto the field. “We can just have a normal spar, Link.”

“Ko, Lo.” Link called over. They were still trying to make up their minds. Still planning. “Are you going to drop this death thing?”

“No.” Unison. They swore at one another for it.

Link shrugged at Tamo. “There ya go. Better to get it overwith then have them get too curious when it counts.”

Tamo wanted to defend their character, but he knew better. “So… I guess I’ll be first?”

Link rattled his head. “No need for turns.”

Tim chose his halberd. It was a sturdy piece. He walked into the center and shook Link’s hand. It was the first time in a while he got that sort of respect before a fight. The handshake was firm, and Link realized that Tim, despite his naive nature, was not going to be holding back.

Ato just grabbed a spear. It was what he was most familiar with. Ko and Lo made the dumb decision of carrying a morning star and a mace. Their hands gripped them too hard. Link stood in the center, took in the five of them in their varying degrees of determination. This was not going to be easy. 

“Aren’t you going to get a weapon?” Ato asked. 

“Why?” Link smirked. He turned to Ko first. “There are five right here.”

 

Zelda stood at her window. It had a good view of the sparring grounds. She had them put the grounds there so she could watch her soldiers get stronger. She leaned against the stone of the window frame. She shook her head.

<You could at the very least wear some pants.>

<I’ve got shorts on.>

<Short indeed.>

<Zelda, I need to focus.>

<You wouldn’t have to focus so much if you had worn appropriate attire.> Loamol chimed in. <Once you’re finished here, I can introduce you to a former employer.>

Zelda’s eyes shot open wide. She covered her mouth to stifle surprised laughter.

 

Ko rushed forward with the morning star, swinging it wildly. He had his mind only on one thing: damage. He had not truly considered anyone’s safety, much less his own. His type was something Link knew well. Easily bated, easily evaded. Ko threw back his arm and like a ball, pitched the flailing end toward Link.

Link ducked and slid to Ko’s side. He caught Ko by the arm, slid his hand down to Ko’s wrist, and pulled back Ko’s thumb until he dropped the weapon. More determined than Link gave him credit for, Ko sucker punched him with his opposite hand. He only got a gentle  _ oof _ out of Link. There wasn’t enough momentum behind the punch to make it worthwhile. Link dug his shoulder into Ko’s ribs and lifted him up over his back. Lo rushed up to rescue Ko, and Link tossed the hostage. 

Ko slammed across Lo’s chest, and the back of his hand hit Lo’s mace. They tumbled backwards and Ko massaged his hand. Between having his thumb pulled back and hitting a mace, he considered fighting left handed. 

“You want to make it easier on me, or harder?” Link smirked. 

“Easier for me.” Ato was behind him. He kicked the handle of the morning star around Link’s bare ankle, the chainlinks pinching at the skin. Where the chain crossed over itself, he stabbed his spear and dragged Link back. Instead of falling over like he intended, Link instead dropped into a crouch. He slid along the ground. He popped back up once Ato dragged him close, and moving the full distance from the ground to standing height, Link brought up his fist against Ato’s chin. Ato’s teeth clicked together. He reeled a few steps back, but didn’t drop the spear. Instead, the spear snapped up in defense. Ato was better at this than Link expected. It was good to see a common soldier with some creative thinking. 

“Points for style.” Link whispered. Ato was holding his mouth. He looked Link in the eye with a spark of fury. Ato thrust the spear toward Link, but it there was too much space for Link to move. “Maintain your composure.”

Tim had no delusions about his movement. Link could feel him marching around the arena. While Ato had the light footwork to pull off an assault from behind, Tim played to his own strengths. He stood behind Ato, halberd brandished, and stared at Link over Ato’s shoulder. Link could hear Tamo’s armour shift in his corner. They were circling like vultures. Lo and Ko were getting back up. The arena felt three times smaller. Link breathed. This, a small space, a great amount of hostility on all sides, this was familiar territory. Link closed his eyes as Ato drew closer. He rested them, because for the next ten seconds he was not going to be able to blink.

Ato stabbed to Link’s left, where his hand rested. Odd choice. Link resisted the temptation to grab the spear. He sidestepped to the right, where Tamo was waiting. The edge of the blade swong at Link’s neck, forcing him to duck. He heard Tim grunt, he turned to look, instead Ato’s manic smile caught his attention. Link felt the trap closing in. He shoved himself backwards against Tamo’s legs and slipped through before the Halberd landed. Link rolled back twice, then unfolded to his feet. Without a bow and arrow, he couldn’t fire into the fight. He blinked while he had the chance. 

Link leaned into a sprint. He jumped up as Tamo was turning to face him and launched his foot into Tamo’s armour. Link pushed off the kick to flip backward, regaining space. Without boots he had less momentum, and the slap of his bare foot against the breastplate would leave a bruise. His toes skid along the hard dirt. Tamo tripped over the halberd, tearing his pantleg. Ato sidestepped around Tamo. There was a little blood on his lip. Ko and Lo were closing in on the side. 

“You’re a slippery bastard.” Ato hissed. Link was not sure he liked this Ato. Ato’s spear wandered it’s point, gesturing to all the darkened stripes and mishapen polka dots. “Is that what all these scars are from? Narrow escapes?” 

“Nope.” Link steadied his stance. “They’re mistakes.”

Tim marched up to Tamo and picked him up by the arm. He took his halberd back. They marched foward. Ato was moving to Link’s left, step by step. Link saw the semi-circle forming. They were trying to corner him. He smiled. Slow learners. 

“So what’s the plan, pin me down and skewer me?” Link waited for their eyes to shift. They remained focused. Hadn’t Lo mentioned that Impa had approached him about joining this sqad? Link filed that thought away for later. “A five man trap? Is that all you are?”

Tamo scooped up and tossed the morning star at Ko’s feet. He plucked it up from the dirt as he marched. Then Link saw it. They were thinking. They were measuring, considering, and even debating how to act without a word. They were working as one unit. Link got the chills.

Link swept his eyes over them. Tamo had a scratch on his leg he was trying not to show. Tim was waiting for explicit orders. Ato was more or less lost in the sauce because his teeth hurt. Ko and Lo were out of sync because for all their bickering they didn’t know how to work together. Tamo was the pin holding them together. Taking him out would scatter them, like dogs without a master. Another Link would have made that mistake. 

Link bolted toward Ato. He craved the confrontation. Link feigned to the right. Ato saw it coming and shifted his weight to meet Link when he veered left again. The spear nicked his shorts on the outside of his leg. If Ato was in a clearer mental state, Link would have thought it intentional. He could feel Loamol laughing at him. The spear had to go. 

Link put one hand on the neck of the spear, and one hand on Ato’s shoulder. He pinched hard, and Ato crumpled as Link’s fingers dug behind his shoulder blade. Ato’s knuckles turned white. The others broke into a run. Link leaned his weight into his grip. Ato’s fingers finally released. Link chucked the spear out of the arena, and it landed point down into the soft grass. With his hand free, he leaned deeper into Ato’s shoulder. 

“Go ahead,” Link whispered into his ear. “No shame in tapping out.” 

Ato looked up and met Link’s eyes. He put all he had into one pop against the front of Link’s teeth. Link felt them flex against his jawbone and one popped loose. Link sucked on the blood and spat the tooth into the grass. “Alright. We’re even.”  
Link grabbed him by the belt of his armour and chucked him out of the sparring square. Ato tumbled in the grass. He laid there, face up, his head finally starting to clear. Link wiped blood off his chin. One down.

 

It had been a while since she had watched Link fight. More aptly, it had been a long while since she only watched. He had more energy then- or was he more hasty then? Now he was patient, watching, focused on recovery rather than offense. 

“Your highness,” Ratal stood in the doorway. He bowed, but she wasn’t looking. “The mother has requested to watch the match with you.”

Zelda raised an eyebrow. Zelda thought it presumtuous, but perhaps gossiping about Link would be fun. Zelda came to the thought that her reluctance to like Loamol had nothing to do with Loamol herself, but her cercomstance. Zelda wordlessly agreed. 

“Good to see you, your highness.” Loamol joined her at the window. They looked down over Link’s match. “Do you think he can really win?”

Zelda shrugged. “”He’s not fighting like himself.” 

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not showing off.” Zelda laughed. “He loves to show off.”

“I can see that.” Loamol chuckled. She folded her arms. Zelda noticed how…well endowed she was. Zelda refused to look at her own reflection. Zelda had enough self awareness to register this as jealousy, with a good side of anger. She set it aside. “What was he thinking?”

Zelda afforded herself a false laugh. “Normally, he isn’t.”

That won a true laugh from Loamol. They watched Link spit out a tooth, and throw his comrade out of the ring. He was sweating, and the sun bounced off of him the way it fractured off of Tamo’s armour. Loamol raised an eyebrow.

“What?” Zelda tried not to stare at Loamol, or Link.

“I might make good on my threat.” The Gerudo whispered. “He could make a good amount of money.”

“Loamol!” Zelda matched her whisper with shock. “He’s a fighter, not a dancer.”

“They are the same.” 

Zelda shook her head. “Not for him. He’ll turn red the second you mention it. It’s like he’s allergic to intimacy.”

Loamol tilted her head. “Interesting.”

“No, it makes sense.” Zelda glanced back out the window. “He has more memories of himself as a child than as an adult.”

“No, that’s not what is interesting.” Loamol had a hint in her voice, like honey out of reach. “He is not so shy with me. Not forward, no, we discussed early on that we had no affections for one another, but otherwise very much so comfortable with himself. I am inclined to believe that he is only shy with you.”

Zelda stared at Link through the window. She had half a mind to remind Loamol that she was both a prisoner and a servant, and perhaps she should not speak so freely. She caught herself. He was fighting close to the ground, taking advantage of inexperience. It was a Goron style, she realized. Why he would choose a Goron fighting style over a Zora one when it came to fighting multiple people was beyond her. 

Zelda leaned out the window. “STOP FOOLING AROUND AND CUT HIS HEART OUT!”

Loamol had to walk away from the window to laugh. Zelda did not find it so funny, but she broke into a snicker anyway. Perhaps being friends with Loamol would be good for her. 

Zelda reached into a cupboard beneath her desk. “Loamol, do you drink?”

 

“You really have been married, huh?” Tamo looked at Zelda’s window. Link cast a glance up. He caught a glimpse of Loamol leaving Zelda’s side. That felt like a warning sign. Once he was done defending his life he would ask the rest of the squad about it. “Do you think she wants it on a platter, Tim?”

Tim lifted his halberd. “I only have a stick.”

“That will have to do.”

Link had Lo under his knee, and Ko in a headlock. It was difficult to do this and also watch for Tim and Tamo. He was waiting for them to tap out. They were struggling for air, but not willing to give in for it. They knew they were holding him as much as he was holding them. “Guys, if you black out, you’ll miss supper. We’re having goat.”

Lo flipped him the bird. Ko just kicked. 

Link dropped to a whisper. “Listen, Lo, I know I’m pretty, but I just don’t feel that way about you.”

That was the final straw for Lo. Seeing Lo tap out made Ko give in. Link let them go and they laid there on the dirt, wheezing. Link stood up and faced Tamo and Tim. Tamo was already wide in the shoulders, and fairly well built. Standing next to Tim dwarfed him some, but Tim’s shadow cast over Tamo in ominous ways. Tim’s baby face was hidden in his stern expression. Link shook himself loose. Link considered throwing the fight for the spectacle of it, but he wasn’t sure if Tim would forgive him. 

“You look tired, Link.” Tamo smiled. “You have just as much freedom to tap out as they did.”  
“I appreciate that.” Link genuinely did appreciate that. It didn’t sound like it. Link scooped up some of the dirt and rubbed it between his hands. It wasn’t as good as chalk, or talcom. He stretched his legs a little bit. The scratch at the edge of his shorts dropped a single bead of blood down the outside of his leg. His mouth was still bleeding, too, and he kept feeling the gap with his tongue. Welp, the sooner this was over the sooner he’d get his tooth back. 

Tamo and Link bolted at the same time. Tamo charged, both hands on the hilt, letting the sword cut through the air ahead of him. Link smirked. Link leaped. His toes gracefully landed along the flat of the broadsword. With a running start, Link immediately ran out of blade to sprint on. He planted the arch of his foot over Tamo’s shoulder, and standing on his one foot, twisted his heel against Tamo’s clavicle. Tamo cried out. Link bent his knee as he put his weight into Tamo, then hopped off. He landed in a crouch, looked over his shoulder and snap kicked Tamo in the knee. Tamo collapsed like a tower. 

Tim’s shadow cast over Link like a storm. The halberd came down like hail. Link dodged, and Tim brought up his knee to meet Link’s face. Instead of pulling back for another kick, Tim brought down the halberd like a staff, pinning Link’s neck against his thigh. Link snapped his legs up and wrapped them around Tim’s neck, pulling the mountain down into the dirt. Tim lost his grounding and Link’s head smacked against the dirt. Worse for Tamo, Tim landed shoulder first into Tamo’s back. Link spiderwalked back, bringing air into his lungs with rapid, shallow breaths. 

Tim rolled over Tamo rather neatly and rolled back to his feet. He extended a hand to Tamo and pulled him back to his feet. He apologized for falling on him, and Tamo waved it off. They shared a facial expression. Tim tapped Tamo on the back and left him standing there, regaining his breath. Tamo leaned on his sword while he rolled his shoulders. Tim tightened his grip on the halberd and rushed Link down.

For a large target, Tim was easy to maneuver around. With a straight path so telegraphed, Link had no problem prancing around Tim. Long step left, duck under the halberd and long step right-

The plan was to finish of Tamo before he had recovered. Tamo had accounted for it. In Tim’s shadow, Link hadn’t seen Tamo running behind him. As Link stood upright, Tamo plunged his sword into Link’s gut, flush beneath the ribs. Tamo looked Link in the eyes. Link spit up blood on Tamo’s hands.. 

“Fair play.” Link nodded. “I was hoping you’d give me the sword earlier, though.”

Tamo turned his head in confusion. Link gently pried Tamo’s hands from the hilt. Tim turned to see the Hero fall. Instead, Link was laughing. Tim shot Tamo a worried look, and Tamo replied with genuine concern. 

“Link, are you mental?”

“The trick,” Link wheezed, “is to not hold onto it. No matter how you pull it out, you’re going to cut yourself worse, so don’t do this, but…”

Link wrapped his hands around the hilt and gently pulled. Blood seeped out around the blade. He focused on shallow breaths. 

“The instinct is to clamp the muscle around it…” The sword pulled all the way through. With the tip free, Link swong it around (splattering blood on Tato and the arena) to comfortably sit in his left hand. “That just makes it harder to pull out. That’s why its easier to steal a sword from a dead man than a living one.”

Tamo stared at Link with his jaw open, lips twisted with disgust. 

“Heh, good to know that alcohol makes it easier to lie.” Link looked Tamo in the eye. “You’re gonna have to fight like hell to kill me.”

Tamo clapped his hands and then put them in the air. He turned away from Link and walked out of the arena. Ko and Lo stared at Link with horror. They scuttled off the dirt and found shelter near the weapons rack. Link turned to Tim, who still stood strong with his halberd. 

“You would be hard to scare.” Link smiled. He looked manic. Blood bubbled down his stomach, soaked his shorts and his shirt. The blood reached as far as his knee. His hands were caked with it. The sword had ooze on it and a small strip of fat. “You watched chickens skeletize the hands that fed them. Kinda sets the bar pretty high.”

“I admit,” Tim adjusted his weight. “You’re pretty close.”

“Why thank you.” Link bowed, but only a little, because a bit of blood poured down his back and it was warm, which makes anyone uneasy. “That trick takes a lot of practice.”

Link shook the sword to get some of the goop off. It hit the dirt with a quiet splat. Much of the audiance was either stuck staring at Link, or unable to look at the arena at all. 

“Now the question is, Tim, can you finish me before the bloodloss does?”

 

Loamol couldn’t look. She had only a few sips of the light alochol Zelda had stashed in her bedroom. She remembered the nasty stab wound Link came home with from the market. It struck her to realize that it hadn’t even been a month ago. What was worse was that Zelda was calmly watching, nursing a wine. 

“How can you watch that?” Loamol shuddered. 

“You’ve never seen him fight before? Don’t worry, the first time is always the worst.” Zelda blinked. “Hold this, I should get my bow.”

Loamol did as she was asked, more out of shock than obediance. Zelda crossed the room to the glass case where she kept her bow. She threaded it with gentle familiarity. Her arrows were kept in a cylindrical map-case in the cabinet underneath. Zelda waited to knock the arrow, instead leaning the bow against the window. Zelda took her wine back.

Loamol’s whisper fell as if the Temple was still on her voice. “Are his battles always this gruesome?”

Zelda finished her glass. “No, but he feels that if this squad is going with him anywhere, they need to be prepared for it.”

Loamol rested her glass in her hands. 

“That, and he feels forgotton.” Zelda murmured. She looked at her empty glass with a touch of remorse. “He screws up once, and suddenly every time he’s died for our people doesn’t count anymore. He just wants them to remember, like he does.”

 

Tim was gently circling Link, but Link wasn’t turning with him. He just stood there, swordtip to the dirt, hair covering his face. It wasn’t a true fight anymore. It was a horror show. Tim had a feeling he would be the last one standing, but he hoped Tamo would have stuck around. Tim couldn’t tap out. He shook Link’s hand at the start and he meant it. 

Tim was thinking about the rumors he heard before Link was added to the squad. He remembered sitting up in the barraks, listening to the soldiers talk about him like a wendigo. He had defeated more monsters as a child than most men had seen in their lifetime. When he defeated Gannon, he was overcome with greed and ate the King’s heart; Gannon was back early for revenge. He was born to a witch, and his father was a brew of blood and horns and intestines. He had kidnapped the mother and child because he wanted Hyrule to burn. For Tim, watching Link through all of his nightmares drove those rumours through him. He never seemed Hylian, only a demon in thin skin. Seeing him now, slowly bleeding to death with a smile on his face- Tim had a thousand questions.

“For someone who’s been mute most of the week, you sure talk a lot of shit.” Tim said. Link had expected this out of Ko or Lo, but not from Tim. Link gave a short laugh and he choked on a bit of blood. He gently wheezed. 

Tim lounged. He drove the halberd to Link’s shoulder, but the sword snapped up to punish it. Link dragged his sword down the halberd, pushing it into the dirt. He hadn’t looked. His other shoulder above the wound still slumped. His knee was buckling. Tim repositioned his hands around the halberd so that he had Link’s arm stuck between them. Instead of trying to pull back, Link twisted the sword upside down, and flicked it across the handle to catch Tim’s hands. Reflexively, Tim dropped it. Link caught the halberd on his foot and kicked it to his other hand. He tossed it out of the arena. 

Tim grabbed Link by the wrist. His arms were a lot bigger than Link’s. Link pulled against his thumb, but for all Link’s bravado he was still losing a lot of blood. Link instead relied on Tim’s strength. He swong from the grapple, ran up Tim’s leg and chest, and dragged Tim’s arm with him. He slid over Tim’s shoulder. With his own weight, he used Tim’s arm to make a choke hold. Tim tried to turn around to allow his arm to unfold. Link twisted, stabbed the sword into the dirt for stability, and hoisted Tim over his back. He hissed a good deal as he did so. Tim landed on his back with a heavy thud. Even still holding onto Link’s wrist, Link pulled the sword from the dirt and held it over Tim’s forehead. Tim tapped.

From the ground, Tim could see under his hair. His eyes were flickering with the lights. His triforce was trying to keep him alive, but Link was fighting to surpress it. Link’s breaths were forcibly short. Link turned the sword to present the handle to Tim. Tim slowly rolled over and pushed himself to his feet. He took the sword, and stared at Link. 

“Go ahead, Tim.” 

Tim looked at the four rings on his neck.

“Next part is really cool, promise.” Link smiled. He finally looked up to meet Tim’s face. Over Tim’s shoulder, he saw Zelda drawing her bow. “It’s okay, first time’s the hardest.”

Tim grabbed Link by the hair to keep his head still, and put the sword to his throat. His hand shook.

“Tim, please.”

Tim took a deep breath and beheaded him. Link’s body dropped to the ground. Link was nothing but scattering lights before he hit the dirt. The lights rose up through Tim’s fingers and gathered togther. One blue light hesitated to join the mass. Together they formed a blob, then a boy, then a dog, and then Link. The details faded in, smallclothes and all, and as he came together he hit the dirt with a dull thud.

Tim smiled. “Yeah, okay, that was pretty cool.”


	15. Tale of Two Dads

The narrator held her hands over the dirt. Small mounds of earth made little figures for the next act. The Ember-eyed figure returned, and several grass figures did, too. As the women sat down, the narrator coated some of the grass figures in soot. They danced with precision, guarding a grass figure clad in blue flower petals. 

“Long ago, Wisdom was protected by the servants of the night. They worked in her shadow, and in the wake of Courage.” The grass figure with a blade of grass for a sword danced with the figure in blue petals. Then the soot figures began to turn to one another in their dance and talk, waving their hands about in argument. “Some of them thought they could improve the world by undoing what Din had done.”

The Ember-eyed awoke from its little mound in the earth. “They believed that they could steal back Power, and restore the Giantess. Some believed it was their future, some believed it was their downfall. Hope and Ambition battled alongside Tradition and Reverence. They divided.”

The soot figures danced away from the Green and Blue figures. A third of them circled back in, protecting the pair. The two thirds refused to rejoin the circle, and instead danced around the outside. 

The hopeful soot figures came together, and fled the traditional ones. They danced their way down the mound where the Ember-eyed waited. They circled his mound, dancing with relics of pebbles and water. The Ember-eyed glowed with all the fire inside, consumed the water and the pebbles, and dragged the Soot figures inside. 

“They were at the Din-Born’s mercy.” The narrator announced with such sorrow, such regret, that her voice reflected on the face of every Gerudo watching. The soot figures bowed, low to the ground, around the Ember-eyed. “They begged the Din-Born for Power, that they might restore their Giant. The Din-born declined, saying that their work was not yet done.”

“‘Behold!’ the Din-born cried,’” the Narrator bellowed. The embered figure climbed upon her hand and stood aloft. “‘For while you yet weep for your Giantess, I weep for my people. I shall not surrender, not until my people are restored.’”

“So moved by his decleration,” the narrator lowered the figure back to the circle of bowing soot figures, “they vowed to help restore the Buried. For their surprising loyalty and skill, the Din-born cured them of their shadowed appearence of the new world, and painted them vibrant and beautiful in Din’s image.”

The soot figures stood up. The black of the figures burned with fire, until the figures themselves seemed to shimmer like gold, and the fire became like hair, and they were the most beautiful figures. The narrator smiled on them, and held them aloft. 

“On that day, the Gerudo were born.” The narrator announced. “And we uphold our promise to the Buried, to the Forgotton, to the Deserted. Every hundred years, we bring the Din-born Gannondorf into this world, so that he might restore his own.”

Mesol would take a while to mentally digest the play. The Narrator stayed in the circle for hours after, making Gerudo figures from the earth for all the girls. Mesol was sure to get one. Before the week was over, the Narrator agreed to show her how to perform the Rememberance, too.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The colour hadn’t come back to his hair properly, and as much as he wanted to blame the witch, she had done the treatment for free.  _ You’re only gonna need to pay if you talk, so keep your mouth shut and this can be our little secret. _ He didn’t have the rupees to argue with a madwoman. He did have the rupees to pay an old friend a visit. 

He kept his head down as he kicked along the old cobbles. The guards at the tower intentionally kept thier eyes on their paperwork. Women kept their heads down, hurried and still struggling with acceptance of their day to day lives. Men followed them moments later, pretending that the birds were singing and the world wasn’t burning. Every race, every caste found their way down here eventually. The cured man found the precise shamble of a building he was looking for.

“Hey, Jokoh, been a while.” A Goron woman at the desk flutered her eyelids at him. She laughed then settled into a more comfortable posture. “Got money for me?”

“Only if you’ve got the girls.” Jokoh laughed. “Listen, I got a feen for a particular woman.”

“Oh?”

“Do you remember Lomoil?”

“Who?” The Goron squinted. “Oh, Loamol? Oh, come on. You know all the Gerudo women are gone. She was one of the first to flee. Must’ve smelt it on the wind. You know how they are. Just when you think they loved you, they leave.”

“Well,” he leaned his elbow on the desk. “It’s funny that you mention it. ‘Cause I’ve been thinkin’ she wasn’t right before she left anyhow. Too emotional, you know?”

The goron looked around the ceiling with a surrendering, defeated expression. “Yeah, we know. Listen, Veka took care of it. Okay? She fled shortly after, and we were gonna grab her back, but then all the Gerudo were just up and leavin’, and no one had any reason to track down one in particular.”

He stared at her. “You’re  _ sure _ Veka took care of it?”

She slammed her elbow on the desk. “You implyin’ somethin’?”

“Listen, I’m just covering my ass, Granite.” He huffed. She hated that nickname. “Can I just talk to ‘im?”

She thought about it. “Fine, but you gotta wait. He’s got another twenty minutes with Milla.”

Jokoh nodded. He could get a coffee and come back. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Link was sore. Aside from being impaled with a sword and being beheaded, he had pulled several muscles in his back. His foot was bruised, even though it wasn’t properly damaged anymore, and though he could feel the tooth in place, he could still taste the blood underneath it. He reminded himself that it wasn’t as bad compared to some other mornings. 

One benefit was that his squad was pretty cool about the whole thing. They didn’t pester him with questions while he ate. Instead of acting afraid, they were only acting in concern for his wellbeing. Tamo nursed his own shoulder, Ko’s hand was banadaged, and Ato was rather proud of knocking out a tooth. He threatened to go out to the field and find it, keep it as a trophy. 

“Maybe we can spar like that once a month, yanno?” Ato went on. “I’ll have a cool little necklace before long.”

“Why would you want a necklace of Hylian teeth?” Lo grimaced. “Gonna lay down your spear and defeat Bokoblins with friendship?”

“Might be a good fakeout.” Link suggested. “A necklace of teeth is pretty convicing. We could do it more than once, so long as we space it out.”

“You are the last person who should be on board for this.” Tamo shook a fork at Link. “I swear if I see you do that nonsense again.”

“Oh please,” Link laughed, “You’ll what? Ground me?”

“Oh you think reckless endangerment is funny?” Tamo scowled at his bacon. “Lock you in a cage with a chicken; you’ll have a good laugh.”

Link shut up. Tim, who wasn’t talking, also shut up. 

“Makes me wonder,” Ko found himself more of the thinking variety since yesturday, “When are we being sent out, anyway? I kinda thought we would be assigned something pretty quickly.”

“We are.” Tim cleared his throat of the thought of chickens. “Patrol duty. And I am honoured to serve it.”

“Not a question of honour.” Ato waved his fork around. “It’s because Impa is taking care of a request from the Princess. I mean, we’re her squad after all. I imagine our formal assignments will come from her.”

Link finished his eggs quickly so he could get out his thought before he lost it. “Impa doesn’t lead squads. She has enough on her hands with other security detail. Not to mention keeping up with Zel-, er, her highness is kind of a full time job of its own.”

“She leads this one.” Tim spoke it softly. “At least, that was the intention. She assembled this squad herself, before the first Blood Moon. Dunno why she picked us, none of us were even the top of our class.”

Link furrowed his brow. They scraped the last of their breakfasts off the trays and flipped them over. It said PATROL on it again, but there was a handwritten note scribbled above it. In elegant, rushed hand, it read clearly- 

‘See me.’

Lo’s eyes shot up. He dropped to a whisper. “Is this it? Is she back?”

Link did not look so excited. “That’s not Impa’s hand.”

“Then who’s is it?”

 

Tamo had carried the food tray as proof of their summons. The castle guards avoided looking at Link. They instead complimented Tim on his victory in the match. Tim was confused, because he remebered losing. The guards paid his objections no mind. He was a strapping young man that did his family proud, and well, that much was true. The guards escorted the squad not to Zelda’s wing, or to the Council, or the Throne room, or even the War Table. Instead, they were brought to the private study. A small fire danced over a log, just to make the room smell nice. One armchair was empty. The other was not. 

The guards, and the squad, all dropped to a knee. The guards were dismissed with a perfected wave of the hand. The squad, now seeing who summoned them, looked at one another with confusion. Link on the other hand, was thinking about exits. The faster and the harder to follow the better. 

“Rise.” The Queen announced. She sipped her coffee. They did. They watched as she read the morning paper for a moment. Link already had a natural talent for flare, but the Queen had tutored his talents. She had them stand in silence while she sipped her coffee and read her paper. When she had finished, she set the cup into its saucer with a gentle  _ clink _ . Link amost jumped out of his skin at the sound. “It appears my daughter has reserved you for busywork until your commander returns from her duty.” 

The soldiers had no formal response for this statement, so stood still. The queen cast an iron glare at Link, who kept his eyes on the hardwood floor. She chuckled to herself. 

“You made quite a show yesturday.” The queen smiled. She regretted drinking all her coffee. She waved to a servant in the corner, who scuttled up and affectionately refilled her cup. “Thank you, dear.”

“You even had a mind to clean up after yourselves.” The queen raised an eyebrow. “Impa appears to have trained you well. I look forward to her ambitions with such able students. It is a shame you sit idle, but I know it is necessary. At least I can make your idleness serve a purpose. Bring the papers.”

Another servant brought a small wooden box, bowed deeply to the queen, and then presented the box to Tamo. He took it, and inside was a stack of neatly organized papers. Tamo was confused. 

“Oh, they’re not for you, dear.” The coffee was divine. “If he wasn’t pretending he knew what humility was, he could tell you I believe that punishments shouldn’t only fit the crime, but ought to work to mend the damage done.”

Tamo passed the box to Link. Regrettably he took it. His soul groaned. They were legal forms. They were pages, and pages of paperwork, each with awkwardly phrased fields and far too many lines for signatures for anyone’s liking. He read the subject lines. His posture softened. Link stood up straight, and stuck his finger down the inside of the box to read the papers underneath. 

“While you’re in my home, you will live by the rules, Link.” The queen had the now box-less servant nudge another log on the fire. “Yet, from the moment you entered my home you decalred this boy was your son without any proof or paperwork. That will not stand, especially if you are going to defend yourself. These fine gentlemen deserve better than to be shackled with a felon. I’m afraid you cannot ask my daughter for help, either. You’re on your own. I hope you have as much constitution for papercuts as you do for terrorizing your only friends.”

Then she dismissed them with a perfected wave of the hand. “Go on. You have a city to patrol.”

The guards escorted them back to the barraks to change into their armour before patrol. Link slid the wooden box under his cot. He found himself struck with an odd moment of perspective. He looked at the rest of the squad. “I’m sorry.”

They stared at him. Tamo threw him his helmet. “For what?”

“For getting tied up in my mess.” Link sighed. “I do things myself so that others don’t have to, and yet somehow someone else always gets involved.”

They shared a smirk. “Oh please, to get involved in all this nonsense? That’s exactly why we shook Impa’s hand. Come on, before all the wealthy thieves get away today.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Impa matched pace with him rather easily. He looked as if he moved quickly, but only if he had been carrying a large weight. He balanced himself like someone on a point, or a thin edge. His movements were a dance that were foreign, but their purpose familiar. He was a soldier just like everyone else: with an inflated concept of how valuable he was. It was obvious that he was following his senses. He knew which way to go, but not what would be on the way. He also hated grass, which Impa felt was entirely in character. 

“It’s a shame you’re on the wrong side,” he said, breaking a perfectly good silence. “You seem like a shame to lose. Your master must miss you.”

Impa was sure that was true. “It seems to be a pity to be your enemy, then.”

He bowed, mid flourish. “I know your flattery is empty, but I appreciate it all the same. When I see my master, I will consider begging for your life.”

“How kind of you.” 

He walked a few more yards, and then with great frustration, collapsed right into the grass. His cloak tangled awkwardly around his leg. He stared at Impa. “Why don’t you have a horse?”

“I do not have feed for a horse on my person.” Impa replied, as calmly as she could muster. “Though I am not inclined to grant you haste, as I am sure you understand.”

“If you are not going to be of use, then why come along?”

“I have my own concerns for your master.” Impa folded her arms. “Events surrounding his birth have forced me to take a new perspective. I find myself just as much his protector as the other two.”

Ghirahim squinted and smirked in a most unusual expression. “Speak plain, shadowchild.”

“Your master is under the protection of the Bearer of Courage.” Impa extended her hand to help Ghirahim up. To her surprise, he took it. He rubbed his temples with his thumbs. “Yes, my thoughts exactly.”

“Surely this cannot go well.” The jester paced in a tight circle, then doubled back over it. He spoke in a language that she found familiar, but did not understand. It was an old language. Then, when his thoughts were better organized, “No wonder the beasts have rejected him. How long as this gone on?!”

“Nearly six years now.” Impa started walking. Ghirahim corrected her direction. He frowned at the grass. “Is that why their assaults seem aimless?”

”Aimless?” Ghirahim chuckled, and Impa tried not to take it personally. “We can wage this war in our sleep. You lay your villages like veins, bleeding all the way back to your heart. Besides, are not all bearers born as babes? No, my fear is that your feral madman has corrupted our King.”

Impa could not rebuttal Link as a feral creature. She had spent years teaching him to knock on doors before he opened them, and sometimes it still slipped his mind. “If all we needed to do was to stop the war on Hyrule was to teach him poor table manners, I would have done it ages ago.”

Diamonds flipped to black all the way up his fingers, his arms. “If the war is to end on your pitiful realm, you will need Him. Without his power to drive the final blow home, we will go on like this for eternity.”

“That does not sound like a compelling argument, you must know.”

Ghirahim threw his arms about. They looked like scorched charcoal with a coat of gloss. “Not- Not  _ you, _ I don’t care what happens to your little villages and soldiers. No, your damned brat and her little swordsman. Things would be long since overwith if not for  _ them _ .”

“Yes, on that, you’re right.” Impa growled. “ _ Everything _ would be over if not for them.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Gannon rest his chin on the edge of the tub. He missed the brook that carried away the soap and the soot. The tub had a hard bottom, unlike the silt, and there were no fish to play with. He couldn’t pee in the water, either. Granma Syrup wrangled his long hair around her forearm so she could get to the roots with all her monstrous soap. Mama was never as graceless as this. Syrup pulled on his hair in ways that hurt sometimes, and no matter how many times he said  _ ow _ , she didn’t listen. At least it was always warm indoors, and he never had to deal with the rain after a bath…

Gannon huddled in his towel while Syrup cleaned up the tub. Maple came in with a change of pajamas (they were pink, because they used to be hers) and soot from the underneath the couldron. She slid down the wall next to him. As he dried off, she layed on the soot. There was no laughter in it. The three quietly existed in the bathroom until the tub was clean, Gannon was almost black, except for his wild red hair and a flannel pink dress. 

Then Maple started to laugh. Gannon looked down at himself, and shouted that he needed a mirror. They all shuffled into Syrup’s room where the only full length mirror in the house lived. Gannon stared at himself and couldn’t hold it back. Laughter split at his sides. He danced awkwardly in the dress, and Maple took his hand to dance with him. Syrup leaned on the doorframe and watched them with a quiet smile.

“Alright, we have got to braid your hair.” Maple wheezed. “Stand still for a minute.”

“It’s going to take longer than a minute to braid that,” Syrup shuffled into the room. She wrapped his hair around her arm, then rest her bony hand on his shoulder. “Come into the kitchen. We’ll put you in the tall chair and work from there.”

Maple had to help Gannon up because the chair was tall, and he was getting too heavy for Syrup to pick up. She hesitated to put the leather straps over his ankles. She decided against it. “We usually use this chair for checkups. We won’t need the straps because we’re not doing your teeth.”

Gannon felt several ways about this, but most of those feelings were concern. 

“Maple, get me the big fork out of the drawer.” Syrup gathered up his hair in one hand and straightened the locks with another. 

“We can just use my comb,” Maple pointed in her room’s direction. “I don’t mind.”

“His hair is too thick for that tiny thing. We’ll be here all day.” Syrup found herself smiling. “I always wanted to play with your father’s hair, but he refused to grow it out. Always cut it with a rock or a knife.”

Gannon turned in the chair and his hair twisted neatly around him. “Wait, you knew him when he was little?”

Syrup raised an eyebrow. “He was born right here in this house.”

“I thought he always lived in the Wood.” 

“His spirit belongs to the wood and the night,” Syrup’s tone wove itself like a myth, “just as Zelda’s belongs to the sea and the day, and yours the oasis and the twilight. No matter where you are, home will always call to you.”

“Twilight…” Gannon muttered. He turned back in his chair. “The compromised…”

“That’s a big word.” Maple brought over the fork. It had five prongs on it. Syrup had usually used it for mashing potatoes. “Where’d you’d get that one?”

“I dunno.”

Syrup started combing his hair from the bottom in her hand. She pulled out tangle after tangle, slowly working her way around and back up again. This was going to be a longer process than she had thought. “Maple, start up the couldron. I’m going to teach you a new brew so pay close attention…”

Maple was happy to do so.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

He came back with his coffee. As he had hoped, Veka was leaning on the front desk where the Goron was trying to ignore him. He was visibly glorifying his own exploits. Jekoh tapped him on the shoulder. 

Veka turned his long head around. “Oh, if it isn’t more work. What do you want?”

“Don’t stress your gills.” Jekoh lerned on the counter himself. Granite did her best to ignore them both. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you followed the damn rules.” Veka stabbed a seafoam green finger into Jekoh’s chest. “But no, you just drop rocks and anchor in every room you please.”

“Hey, I’ve been a golden customer lately.” Jekoh spat. 

“Then why do you need me so badley, hm?”

“‘Cause a little birdie told me that you botched a job.” It was Jekoh’s turn to stab him in the chest with a finger. He used all five of them with a hardy fist. 

Veka recoiled. He cast a glance at the Goron, who waved him away. The Zora took Jekoh by the arm and dragged him into a room. He checked the bed to be sure there wasn’t a girl sleeping in it. Veka shook his hands at his sides to wave off the stress. 

“Listen, I gave her the stuff,” he started. “I made sure she drank the whole nasty bottle, and then not two seconds later she threw it back up.”

“So what, you couldn’t handle a little sick?”

“No!” Veka hissed. “Of course I gave it to her again. Had half a mind to make her drink the same puddle she wasted. But sure enough, not two seconds later, comes back up. Then I saw it, man. Are you sure,  _ absolutely goddessdamned sure _ , that you were the last guy she had?”

Jekoh grabbed him by his shirt. “The fuck did you see, Veka?”

“I- I didn’t want to believe it, and then I don’t think she did either because then she started drinking the shit on her own and kept throwing up-”

“Veka!”

“Loamol is living in the castle now.” Veka skipped to the end. “I think she attacked a guard and then she ran and then- then that damned Golden Boy went after her-”

Jekoh threw him down. The Zora stumbled onto the bed.The Hylian stood in silence while the weight of the event sunk over them. Jekoh stormed out of the room. He finished his coffee and threw it at the Goron to throw away. She only threw it away so she wouldn’t trip on it later. Jekoh paced down the blocks for hours until the coffee wore off. He needed sleep, he needed a clean set of clothes, and he needed to get into the castle. That sloppy gerudo was going to get hers. 


	16. Found Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get your tea and cookies first, this is a long one.

“Put this spoon in your mouth.” Syrup stuck the handle of the spoon under Gannon’s tongue as he stood in the kitchen. She poured a brew in the spoon, and topped it off with the zest of a monster’s horn. Maple stood behind him with her own spoon filled to the brim with brew. The two stood back to back, trying not to spill the contents of their spoons. Syrup came back with a pair of narrow worms. Gannon stiffened. Maple wasn’t bothered. She dropped the worms in the spoons and watched them swim about. “Keep those spoons steady.”

Maple was tempted to talk. “Maaahne izsh shihmming eeft.”

“Maple please.” Syrup closed one eye and leaned in closer to look at the worms. “You’re moving the broth.”

“Mmmfff.”

Gannon needed to scratch his nose. He was focusing too hard on standing still. Granma’s long talon of a finger reached over and scratched the itch. Gannon was relieved, but unnerved. An eternity passed, and the witch finally plucked the worms from the spoons. She put the worms in a tray. She bathed them with boiling water. Gannon could almost hear them screaming. 

“Alright, gently remove the spoons, and drink the potion.” Syrup said it matter-of-factly, but Gannon’s stomach turned. Maple pinched her nose, tossed it back, and then pinched Gannon’s. He closed his eyes and shoved the spoon so far back he almost choked on it. He still managed to taste the potion, and it sent him into a coughing fit. Maple gave him a chunk of chocolate to chase it down with. “Your worms didn’t match up. The curse is finally dissolved. You’re free to go to the market when Zeel wakes up. I suggest you be packed and ready to go before he objects.”

Maple bundled up every rupee she had. Gannon didn’t have anything in the way of possessions, aside from his silken outfit. He sat on the bed while Maple tore her room apart. She was worried about a lot of things going wrong, or a missed opportunities. Gannon was worried about how much her broomstick could carry. Zeel came in from his sleep, groggily flying from the bathroom. He settled himself in Gannon’s pocket. 

“You’re serious about this oath thing, aren’t you?” Zeel groaned. 

Gannon nodded.

“Do you even understand what an Oath really is?”

“It’s a promise that cannot be broken.” Gannon held up his hand. The mark of the triforce lay dormant on his hand like a scar. “And I think I can use all the help I can get.”

Zeel flew up to his hand and sat on Gannon’s knuckles. The red light of the fairy made his mark stand out against his skin. “All the more reason you need to be careful. Even if you are working with all of your lifetimes of experience, which I doubt, she is not. She only has one.”

Gannon looked through the red light to watch Maple pack her bag. She crammed granola into the side pouch, burying tiny bricks of chocolate. She took out a change of clothes, rerolled them, and shoved them back in. They still didn’t fit properly.  

“She’s a big kid.” Gannon said confidently. “She knows what she’s talking about. She’s going to be a powerful witch one day.”

“Maple.” Zeel called out through her focus. “Why don’t you sit down with us for a second.”

Maple hesitated, but left the bag on her desk and sat down on the bed. “Zeel, I know you’re worried, but we can handle this. Together we can help a lot of people.”

“Gannon, wake it up.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Gannon kneeded his hands together. He kicked his feet against the side of the bed. “I never like it when Papa does it.”

“Your piece and his are similar, but not the same.” Zeel coaxed him. “What are you afraid of?”  
“Nightmares.” Gannon scrunched up into a ball. “I always see something scary, or feel something dangerous coming.”

“Pff.” Maple scoffed. “Scarier than Gannon, okay. Have you ever seen a snake? It’s like that. It’s only hissing and curling up like that because its afraid. Whatever you see in your nightmares is just afraid of you.”

Zeel’s light softened. He watched Gannon for any sign of breakdown, but it didn’t come. Instead, Gannon did just as Link had taught him. He breathed heavy, then easy, and counted his fingers. 

“I’m not bad.” Gannon said. “But bad things are happening. I don’t want to use  _ this _ , because thats what makes everyone think I’m bad, but if I don’t, I can’t stop the bad things that are happening?!”

Gannon fell back on the bed. Maple patted his shoulder. “What does… that even do?”

He looked at her. “It gives me Power.”

“Well, duh,” she huffed, “but what kind? Is it like, magic? Are you super strong? Can you raise the dead? Like, ‘power’ is super generic. A  _ flavour _ can be powerful.”

“I dunno.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “That’s why I don’t want to use it. Whenever I get nightmares I can feel it, and it feels dangerous, and I have to think really hard to go back to sleep.”

Maple crossed her legs so she could rest her arm on her knee, and her chin in her hand. “So, if we find a way to make the power good, and not bad, then you can be good, and so can your monsters.”

“They’re not my monsters.” Gannon mumbled. 

Maple leaped off the bed, scooped up her backpack and took a stance. “Not yet, they’re not. What you need is a way to learn these powers, and a place to practice. You also need to learn how to be a good King. I don’t have a plan for the King bit, but I might know where we can run away to practice, whenever we want.”

Gannon sat up. “Where?”

“The Temple, at the bottom of the Bay!” Maple’s smirk ran deep. “We just have to get us all down there. I know you can get there,  _ Eko _ , but Zeel and I will need a way.”

“Temples are dangerous!” Gannon dropped his voice to a panicked whisper. “We can’t go in there.”

“Pshaw.” She brushed the thought off with a flamboyent gesture. “They were defeated years ago when the Hero ran through them all and beat them. Besides, I’m gonna be the best witch ever,” she pointed both thumbs to herself, “and I’m already good at some potions that can get us going! Maybe if we can find a water-breathing potion that Granma won’t let me read, then we can use that to get into the temple!”

Zeel realized how crazy this sounded. Though… a place to practice, and they might even be able to get the lyre they dropped… “No, no. There are monsters down there. It’s too risky. It’s been  _ years _ , and monsters are  _ everywhere _ . Anything the Hero might have defeated could have been brought back on any of these Blood Moons. It’s out of the question. We can go to the Zora Markets, and look for some  _ options _ , but nothing else!”

Maple siezed her broom like a lifeline. She bounced the handle against the floorboards and opened up the window. Gannon slid off the bed and held out his hand for the broom. It leveled underneath his palm. He loved the tingling sensation of it. 

“Aren’t we going to have some breakfast first?” Zeel’s nervousness came through. 

“Never fly on a full stomach!” Maple cried. Zeel cast his magic and Gannon became Eko. The two kids got on the broom, Zeel hid in Eko’s pocket, and they were off. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ghirahim stopped in his tracks. Impa looked at the sky to gauge the time. It was late morning, and they had made good progress on distance. Despite being on foot, the mountains were shrinking behind them. “Something wrong?”

The jester sat in the grass. “Master is moving.”

Impa looked in the same direction. She didn’t see anything. “What do you mean?”

“It is too fast to be by horseback.” Ghirahim squinted at the clouds. “But too slow to be by his own power. When he stops I will pursue again. As it is, this is rediculous.”

“Which direction?” 

“Toward us, but to the East.”

Impa looked at her landmarks. “I know where he’s going. Come on.”

Ghirahim tilted his head. He unfolded himself out of the grass and spun on his toes. He fell in stride with Impa and walked a pace behind her. This was an amusing development. Perhaps she might yet make a good servant for the Master.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 Maple snickered in Eko-Gannon’s ear. This made him nervous, and so he grabbed the broomstick with all of his fingers and thighs. This was a good decision. Maple dove through the heavens, pointing the stick directly at the ground. It was less like flying down and more like free falling with gravity juiced up. Gannon hated it. The wind whipped about his scales like an army at the gates. His headfin flapped like underwear on a clothesline in a storm. His heart was somewhere back at Syrup’s house wondering where the hell he’d gone off to. Even worse, Gannon looked back and saw that Maple was whooping with her  _ eyes closed _ . 

_ Din, if you ever loved me at all, please make my death quick. _

“Ten, eleven, twelve- THIRTEEN!” Maple yanked back on the broomstick. It wasn’t a straight up yank- that would be foolish. Instead, she pulled it to the side like a handbreak on a sharp turn. The broom whipped up. The bristles of the broom thrust dust and dirt into the air with a flare. They spun out in a wide circle, Gannon’s heart caught up with them. Maple stuck out her boot to drag in the dirt. They spun in tighter and tighter, slower and slower circles until the broom finally let the air go. “Ahhhhhhh, a perfect landing.”

Eko-Gannon fell off the side of the broomstick and tried not to cry.  As he lay in the dirt he finally got to see the place clearly. Off the shore of the lake, the ramps of ice led to the wide gates, welcoming gaps in the icy walls of the Zora’s Marketplace. It was radiant in the daylight. From the gates poured the din of barter and argument, indistingiushable to Gannon’s ears. Standing at the gates were Zora guards. They were visibly relaxed, one not even holding their spear, greeting people as they came and went. They could afford to relax. They were the day shift. 

Maple scooped up her broom and, with two clumsy hands trying to be cool, slipped it into a holster on her back. The filthy bristles stuck up in the air and some of her hair got caught in it. She brushed it off. Maple extended a hand to the mortified Eko-Gannon. 

“Don’t worry, when Granma Syrup thinks you’re ready, she’ll teach you to make your own broom.” Maple’s smile was genuine from ear to ear. “Those tricks are a lot less scary when you’re the one in control.”

That made sense to him. He took her hand and got to his feet. She helped brush off his silks. She checked him for scratches and bruises, but she always had a hard time spotting bruises under Zora scales. He shook off the help. 

“Okay so, there are some rules.” Maple held up three fingers, but she wasn’t sure what number she would actually reach. 

“Okay.”

“First, you gotta relax. If you’re nervous, they’ll smell it.” Maple squinted. “If those merchants smell nervousness, or doubt, they’ll charge us an arm and a leg. So keep cool.”

Gannon thought she had been talking about the guards, or anyone really, considering who he was. Hearing her mention merchants instead gave him a bit of whiplash. He blinked. She kept going. 

“Second, you gotta stay close.” That rule smelled like a combination of Syrup’s rules, and a bad experience. “Third, don’t tell anyone what you’re looking for, or why.” 

“How are we supposed to find something if we don’t ask?” he protested. “This is how people get Lost.”

Maple waved her hands about. “No, I mean. Okay, how to explain it. We want something, right? That’s our treasure. If we tell someone about treasure, they’re gonna wanna take it for themselves. At a market it’s the same. They might not want some old earrings, but if they find out it’s perfect for an Oath Ritual, then they might change their mind.”

“So… it’s like a bet.” 

“What?”

“LIke a challenge, a bet. They’re… what’s the word…”

“Competing?”

“Yeah! Competing against us.”

“Yes!” Maple threw up her hands. “Close enough!”

“Any other rules?” Gannon crossed his arms. 

Maple shrugged. “Those should do. If more rules become important I’ll tell you.”

He shrugged. That sounded about right. At least Maple admitted it, as opposed to adults saying something five minutes after it was a big deal. She justled her backpack, took her hair out of the broom bristles, and held out her hand. “Come on, Eko.”

 

He liked how the ice sounded against his feet. He slapped the flippers of his toes against the textured surface. Maple couldn’t help but join him, slapping her boots against the grain in the ice. When they made it to the guards, they wore a bemused, appreciative surrender on their faces. It could be translated into one phrase:  _ Ah, kids. _

“State your business.” One said, emphasizing the formality. It was like playing house, but at work. 

“We’re here to buy.” Maple stated proudly. She puffed up her chest. “Granma sent us on errands.”

“Sent?” One raised an eyebrow. “You kids are by yourselves?”

“We’re capable.” 

“Alright, Miss and Master Capable, what are your names?”

Gannon giggled. Maple curtsied. “I am Maple, and this is my brother Eko.”

The guards squinted at Gannon. Maple was fearless. Gannon hid behind her. They looked at one another and shrugged. They wrote down the kids names in the books. Under title, where some guests had ‘lady’ or ‘merchant’, the guards put ‘capable’. 

“Well, if you kids need anything, ask.” One guard bowed lightly. “We’re here to help keep you safe, okay?”

“Yessir.” Gannon mumbled. “Thankyou.”

Maple half escorted, half dragged him into the city itself. The sound of his feet against the ice brought back a thought to Maple. “Oh, right. We should get you shoes. Or just… clothes in general.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 Mipha pulled her brother aside. What the guards had reported worried her. It wasn’t that she thought it was true, but truth rarely got in the way of good gossip. He offered her a glass of fizzy water. She absent-mindedly accepted. 

“I’m actually kind of sorry to ask this, but-” She looked at the door. There were only guards. “Have you been seeing anyone?”

Sidon raised an eyebrow. “I took someone to dinner? The other day. Largely uneventful. Meal was nice.”

“Oh.” 

“I can write down the resturant for you?” 

“No,” Mipha patted his arm. She let out a light laugh. “Actually, that would be great, but the guards reported a child entering the city above that… well, looks remarkably like you.”

Sidon gave an uneasy, toothy smile. “Sister, you’re not suggesting-”

“No,” she glanced at the door. Still just the guards. “But everyone  _ will _ think he is yours, and they  _ will _ talk, and perhaps we have a cousin on mother’s side that got lost in the records.” 

He took a moment to process it. “Does mother and father know about this?”

Mipha nodded. “Apparently he is travelling with a Hylian girl. Says they’re siblings.”

“Then it’s likely he’s a foundling.” Sidon patted his sister’s shoulder, more to assure that he was on the task. “Would it be better or worse if I approached them directly?”

“I believe the guards will bring them to the throne chambers; best to handle it there.”

Sidon nodded. “Right, right.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Zeel peeked out from Gannon’s pocket. The boy pushed him back down. Zeel peered through the button-hole of the pocket to see the rest of the market. “Can you tuck in your pocket flap? It’s in the way.”

“We can’t have anyone see you.” Maple hushed. “We don’t want to stand out.”

“Is that rule four?” Gannon leaned in closer to Maple. 

“Not so much as a rule as a good idea?” Maple squinted at the stalls. “Sometimes you want to stand out. It’s not a simple rule so we’ll just leave it out for now.”

Gannon nodded. His feet were starting to hurt from the grain of the ice. Thankfully, Maple was on it. She dragged him up to an elderly Hylian woman. By her stall was a young boy with an old blade, who dutifully sat on his barrel. He had the look of a child scolded more times than he could justify. 

The stall wasn’t a permanent one. It was a quick set up, and the clothes ranged a few ages, but they were all one style. They were clearly the boy’s old clothes that he had grown out of. Gannon found himself more interested in the pouting boy than the clothes. 

“Eko, stand still for a moment.” Maple muttered. She picked up a few outfits that seemed close to him. She held them up against his back while he stared off into space. “Do you have shoes, too?”

“Not for a Zora,” the woman muttered. “But I may have some sandals.”

“Thank you.”

“What happened to your hand?” Gannon asked. The boy looked up. The mother frowned deeply.

“He did something stupid,” the mother answered. “And if he’s not careful, it can be hurt permanently.”

“It’s just a sprain, Mom.” He conked his head against the side of the stall. “You heard the swordsman. I’ll be just fine so long as I exercise it.” 

“What I heard is that you did something reckless with your life.” She said it in a tone that ended the discussion. Gannon wished he hadn’t asked. He kept looking at the wrappings, though. Maple wasn’t able to buy much from the woman, she didn’t have a lot to sell in Gannon’s size. The sandals fit, but not well. It was better than the grain of the ice against his feet. There wasn’t room in Maple’s pack to fit the new outfit, so Gannon had to carry it in a little paper bag. 

He took the whole place in as they wandered the markets. They passed the job board, the tower that led to the floors below, and plenty of folks bartering back and forth. It was loud, but even louder were the colours. Every stall had a sign that was bright and eye-catching. Clothing showed off how well (or how poorly) someone was doing. Performers of every breed gathered anywhere there was space to stand. He couldn’t keep his eyes on any one thing. All of it demanded his attention. 

“You’ll get used to it.” Maple encouraged him, but the words were lost on the air. “Eko? You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” He refocused back to Maple. “I’ve just… never been anywhere so busy.”

“Sorry.” Maple squeezed his hand. 

“No, don’t be.” His voice was hard to hear over the crowd. Maple craned to see his face as his attention flew elsewhere. “I love it.”

She chuckled to herself. “You would. It’s chaos.”

His eyes drifted upward. It passed over the people, the swarms, the dance of the stalls. “No, it’s not. It’s beautiful. It’s music. It’s discovery and life. It’s peace. Life should be loud! It should be…  _ this. _ ”

Maple pulled him out of the crowd and between the stalls. She found them a place that was more isolated. She grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Is this what you want?”

Gannon blinked at her. “What?”

“You.” She looked around. She could feel the shadows of others crowding around them. “Is this what you want for,  _ you know _ , your people.”

His face lit up. “Yes! And festivals! They could last the whole week! No, a  _ month _ -” 

Maple covered his mouth. “Hey, not so loud. Listen, I am uh-hundred percent behind you, but this is a  _ lot _ of people out there and fights break out sometimes and-”

“Get to the point, Maple.” Gannon hissed. 

“Can your people even… do this?” She strained. “I mean, not like your Mom, or her… sisters, but… the others. The ones  _ outside _ .”

Gannon put his hands on his hips in defiance. “Yes, they can.”

“They’re just… yanno,  _ rowdy _ …”

“I can prove it.” Gannon stared at the ice underfoot. “I bet you fifty rupees they’re already here.”

“You don’t even have fifty rupees.” 

Gannon looked her in the eye. “I’m about to.”

 

The guards were calmly swarming. They were told to treat it like a game of Hide-n-Seek, rather than an earnest search. The guards were looking, so it wasn’t long until merchants were looking, and it became a bit of a gossip what exactly the guards were looking for. However, a simple description of a ‘small Zora boy with red scales’ was enough to stoke the conversation. To sweeten the chaos, when there was no context as to  _ why _ they were looking for a child, the marketplace was all too eager to invent some. 

 

Gannon was now dragging Maple around the stalls. His eyes peeled over every face, every shadow, every merchant he could find. There were only Zora, Hylians, and the occasional Goron. There weren’t even any Gerudo, which was definitely a blow to his spirits. The more they searched, the more he noticed that people were watching them back. His nerves wrung into knots.

“Maple… Maple do they know?” He whimpered. 

She gripped his hand so hard he thought his bones would burst. “No, you just look crazy. Come on. Let’s keep looking.”

Gannon’s heart felt tight. His hand tapped against his leg, which made others give him an odd look, which made the tightness worse. He balled his hand into a fist and shoved it into his pocket. Thankfully, it wasn’t the one where Zeel was hiding. The din of the marketdplace didn’t sound so sweet anymore. The sandals that didn’t quite fit now bothered him, even though they hadn’t a moment ago. All he could think of was that someone, anyone in the crowd had seen through his disguise and slowly everyone else was catching on. 

Then a guard approached them. “Maple and Eko, right? Why don’t you two come with me?”

It was the last straw. Gannon freaked. He tore his hand away from Maple and he ran. He lost a sandal in the crowd. Running with one sandal wasn’t any good so he kicked off the other one. He heard Maple calling after him. Her voice was lost in the swarm of surprised voices and calling commands. He could hear his heart somewhere. He found himself skirting between stalls, into back alleys where he might escape the guards, and winding down to the bad side of town. 

 

The guards worked into a swarm. It was coordinated, almost a dance of a search party. One took Maple’s hand. She dropped to a knee to look Maple in the eye. She had a gentle smile. “Are you okay?”

“Eko can’t be by himself-” Maple stuttered. “I dragged him here and he was scared and I wasn’t listening and-”

“It’s going to be fine.” The guard patted Maple’s hand. “We know this place like the back of our hands, and everyone here is written down. Has your brother been here before?”

“No.” Maple was looking around the crowd, but he still wasn’t there. “No, this is his first time. Granma should have come with us but I didn’t want her to-”

“Maple, right?”

“Y-Yes-”

“That’s your broom, is it?”

Maple blinked. She had her broom. “Can I fly here?”

“You need a permit,” the guard reached into her pouch. She pulled out a little booklet of formal papers. She wrote up a temporary permit for flight. “Here. Stay near me, okay? You can only fly if you have an adult with you, so we’ll work together to find your brother.”

“Thems the rules.” Maple took it with a weak smile. “Thank you.”

The guard helped Maple pull her broom from the holster. Maple tapped the stick against the ice, held up her hand, and let it float up. Maple stretched her foot over the broomstick and latched on. 

“Did you want to get on?” Maple asked, “It will be easier to stay together if we’re both on the broom.”

The guard nodded in acknowledgement. She watched the broom hover in place. She had heard about it, she had seen it once, but  _ trying _ it was another beast all together. “I’ll pass.”

Maple shrugged and hopped on. She flew up a few feet, to the surprise of anyone standing next to her. The guard looked up, and to her relief, Maple was wearing shorts under her dress. At least she knew what she was looking for. 

 

Eko-Gannon found himself standing between piles of wood, crates, caged animals and metal barrels with kindling in them. Hylians were shuffling about, some getting work done, others just drinking. One Zora was doing his best to coordinate them. Gannon ducked behind a stack of crates and sat down on the ice. 

“Don’t sleep, don’t eat.” Gannon whispered to himself. “Don’t wander…”

“Hey.” Zeel checked to see if the Hylians were looking, but they were busy trying to not be invovled with the Zora’s work ethic. “We’re not in the Woods. Good news is, we’re not gonna die here. Bad news, I don’t know how to navigate this place. Sleeping probably isn’t helpful now, but if you see an apple or something, I don’t think it would hurt.”

Gannon nodded. He wasn’t sure if he was hungry, or just thought he was hungry because he was thinking about being hungry later. Zeel peeked around the crates. The Hylians were still not paying any attention. The Zora was trying to get them to move the wood bundles, with mixed results. 

“Okay, we have to get back to Maple.” Zeel kept his eye on the Zora. “I don’t think she’ll find us here, so we have to-” 

“I don’t want her to get in trouble.” Gannon muttered. “The guards were looking for us, and that… that means that she’s going to get arrested too, and then the Hylians will take her like they took Mom and Dad…”

Zeel flew up to his face and jabbed his finger into Gannon’s nose. “Then all the more reason to find her. No more running. You want to make an oath? Then it’s time to show you’ve got the guts for it.”

“I don’t have courage.” Gannon buried his face in his knees. 

“What do you need courage for?” Zeel smirked. “Just because your dad needs magic to stand his ground doesn’t mean you do. You have power, don’t you? Get up. Are you a King or aren’t you?”

Gannon managed a smile. “Thanks, Zeel. I’m pretty sure you’re full of shit, but it sounds cool.”

Zeel’s eyes went up. “Where did you learn to swear, kid?”

“I’m thousands of years old.” Gannon said it more to himself than to the fairy. “I can swear in more languages than anyone else.”

Zeel had to stifle his laughter. “That’s the spirit.”

Gannon took a deep breath. He stood up, scooped up Zeel and gently placed him in the pocket. He leaned against the crate. If the guards knew who he was, then they would want to capture him. If they already had Maple, then they would take her, too. If they took them both then… maybe they would take them to where his parents were… 

Gannon snuck out from around the crates. He followed the gaps between stock and stashes like a path through a wood. He followed the noise of the marketplace. The din would lead him back to the main streets, back to where the guards would be watching. He slipped between stalls of the market, lifted a kebab while a shopkeep was arguing about how it kills its livestock with a customer, and stepped out into the street. He was right- it wasn’t long before he found a guard. 

An arm grabbed him and pulled him behind a stall. He let out a gasp, but wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear him. A hand covered his mouth. A hand stroked his head to get him to calm down, but it only made him kick harder. 

“Hey!” A high pitched screech of a command dove down from above. Maple, closely followed by an exhausted, sprinting guard drove down to the ice. She cast her broom aside and rushed for Gannon. She pulled at the arms and they gave easily. Whoever it was had let go, freely. Maple pulled Gannon behind her. She stuck up her fists and widened her stance. “Pick on someone your own size!”

“I appreciate your spunk, little one.” A voice hissed back. It felt familiar, raw, shrill. “But mind your own business. I have no qualms quieting you.”

Gannon peeked out from behind Maple. He squinted. The figure that grabbed him was almost entirely black, with sharp features and wild eyes. He had a rapier at his hip, but it was more attatched to him than something he wore. “Wait, don’t. She’s with me.” 

A second figure stepped from the shadows. She tapped the black one’s shoulder. He stood up and leaned against a stall. The woman knelt down to look Maple and Gannon at eye-level. “My name is Impa. Do you know who I am?”

Maple paused. “My Dad said you were with the Royal Family, I think.”

“That’s right.” Impa leaned around Maple’s shoulder to see Gannon. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Gannon didn’t answer her. Instead he stepped around to Maple’s side and stared at the black figure. “You’re my sword, aren’t you?”

Ghirahim smiled. “You did call me, did you not?”

“I didn’t mean to,” said Gannon, sheepishly. “I just… remembered and it happened.”

“You should have called me sooner.” Ghirahim gestured to Maple. “She may have the spirit but not the skill. How is she going to protect you from  _ him _ ?”

“From who?” Maple looked at Gannon, who shrugged.

“I told you,” Impa rubbed her temples. “The Hero has been attempting to protect him.”

“To what end? Hm?”

“Maple, you found him. Good.” The Zora Guard caught up with them, her hands on her knees. She looked at Impa and Ghirahim with rational concern. “Maple, do you know them?”

“No.” Maple hissed. She took Gannon’s hand and pulled him back to the guard. “Thank you for helping me find him. We’re okay, now. We have to get back to our errands.”

“Actually, you two need to come with me.” The guard stood up straight. “We have orders to bring you downstairs. Nothing bad, there’s just some people who want to talk to you, okay? Then you can go back to your shopping.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.” Maple protested. 

Impa looked at the guard, and then Gannon’s disguise. She had to fight a smirk. She reached into a pocket on her chest and showed her crest to the guard. The guard stiffened into a salute. “We will be going with you, I assume to the Zora Court?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Impa gently rest her hand on Maple’s shoulder. “It is only a matter of confusion. We will clear this up, and then we will help you with your errands.”

“We don’t need help.” Maple muttered. “We’re capable on our own.”

“Actually…” Gannon squeezed her hand. “I want them to come.”

Maple’s shoulders fell. She glanced at the dark jester, and then at Gannon. He was one of Gannon’s men. It made sense that he was scary, especially if he was Gannon’s swordsman. She gave in. She scrunched up her face, and hung her head in submission. The guard took her hand and led the small group to the pillar of ice in the center of the market. Impa nodded to the Shiekah Stone as they passed it and they descended down the stairs. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The Councilman sat in his personal study. He had his papers, his notes, scattered around a central book. It was on the 14th Century, a historical record on the accounts of when Hyrule Castle had been overrun. It was a flavourless account. It made for dull reading, even if the events themselves were of great interest. He found it a talent to suck the life and intrigue out of history through text. This particular volume had been requested by the Princess, and he had been lucky enough to snatch it off the shelf before the Librarian could send it off. 

“Alright, let’s see what you’re up to this time,” he cooed. He ran his fingers gently through the pages. Like a mother lovingly looking through a photo album, he poured over paragraphs and paragraphs of Hylian history. There, half an hour through the text, he found an illistration that caught his eye. 

A dark crystal, much like the ones the soldiers from Zelda’s research project brought back for study, graced the page. It was a rough sketch with some theories in archaic tongue scribbled about it. Beneath the picture it was translated into a more modern, dry scholarly words. 

 

A CRYSTAL FORMATION, CONFISCATED FROM A GOAT HERDER

REPORTED TO CAUSE HARM, IRREGULAR BEHAVIOUR, (REF 4.3; GHALE)

 

“Ghale… Ghale... “ He searched through his papers. Many of the sheets were protected with sealed glass, making them more difficult to handle quickly. He found a journalist’s collection under the name. He skimmed for anything that refered to a crystal, and found a rewarding quote. 

 

_ He refused to surrender the crystal willingly, claiming that it caused harm to anyone but himself due to his unique abilities. He was reluctant to demonstrate for the court when requested, claiming he was uncertain he was able to terminate the effects without assistance. After much discussion, he agreed to have the crystal sealed within the archives. He reported that it granted him shapeshifting abilities, and an affinity of cats. Though the Princess was willing to support him, he was advised to seek medical care. He accepted.  _

 

The councilman lifted his nose out of the pages. Insolent, close to the princess, and needing medical care? That was a pattern he recognized well. If Ghale was correct, or if the boy had been honest, then it was also an ability he did not have full control over. It meant that it was a state of being he could not so easily escape. The bearers of the triforce were no alien to changing their shape, even the Princess had her disguises, but this felt different. Here it was, in black and white ink, the Hero had admitted to needing help.  _ That _ was a rare find. 

“Hemnal,” the councilman waved to his servant. He held up the diagram from the book. “Some of the soldiers brought this back for research. I have some interest in it.”

The servant nodded. “They said that no one should touch it, sir. Should I also bring your hobby gloves?”

He smiled. “Yes, that is an astute suggestion. Thank you.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 Loamol was grateful to have a different task, even if it was a thinly veiled request. The kitchen staff for the barracks gave her space. She prepared the drinks and set them on the tray. She wasn’t given directions, so finding the rest quarters of the complex took a bit longer than she’d hoped. The drinks were a bit warm before she found them. 

“Hey, you made it.” The soldiers sat around a table, cards and rupees thrown about its surface. Ato stood up to help her. He took the tray, served most of the drinks, and threatened to pour Ko’s drink over his cards. Ato nodded to the corner, where a small lantern glowed. “Nightlight’s on time out.”

“I’m not on-” Link sighed. “They won’t let me play with them until I finish this.”

He sat in a chair, awkwardly hunched over a wooden box as a writing surface. His foot was propped up on the back of Ko’s chair. He looked oddly mundane in the underclothes for his patrol armour. He was wearing his gloves again. He stopped to massage his wrist. Loamol walked over to see what he was working on, and he handed her a sheet of paper. 

She skimmed over the text. It was a birth certificate, half completed. It had Gannondorf as his given name, but his familial and title were left blank. Link had signed it as a present witness. Loamol found it interesting that he did not sign with his name, but instead with the Triforce itself, with his piece shaded in. 

“Is her signature like this, too?”

Link looked up. “Hm?”

Loamol pointed to his triangle on the line. “Unconventional, for legal papers.”

“Well, I couldn’t write when I first came to the castle, so we decided to do that instead.” He still had his focus on the bundle of papers in front of him, but handed her his quill to sign the certificate. “She doesn’t do it anymore, but… I mean, letters are just symbols anyway.”

“I wanna see.” Lo got up from the table. He couldn’t peer over Loamol’s shoulder; he wasn’t tall enough. She turned the page so he could see it. Ko switched some of his cards with Lo’s while no one was looking. “A bit pretentious, isn’t it?”

“I’m not changing it.” Link grumbled. “It’s the only thing I can write with my right hand, and I’m not about to go smudging my signature every time I have to sign something.”

Loamol leaned the paper against the wall. “Does he need a surname?”

“Technically no,” Link leaned his head against the wall to jog his memory. “Especially since there aren’t a lot of Gannons. Unfortunately there are a thousand Links, so I was given one. I just wasn’t sure if you had one you wanted to use, or something else.”

The cardgame stopped. Ato was the one to actually ask. “You have a surname?” 

“You have to tell us.”

“No, I don’t.” Link grumbled. 

“Sorry, Link.” Loamol held the quill hostage. “I think I need to know.”

Link closed his eyes. “Fine. It’s Sink. Link Sink. Happy?”

Lomaol had to cover her mouth. She signed her name on the bottom without adding anything to her son’s surname. Most of the squad was too stunned to make a quip. Tamo instead had a bit more class. “Well, I mean, it makes sense.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.” Mr. Sink sneered. 

“Well, it’s typically a bard’s last name. It’s an old name for a trumpet, or a horn instrument. Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you play a bunch of instruments?”

“He does?” Tim leaned back to his cards. “Which ones?”

Link held up his hand to count on his fingers, “Uh, the lyre, ocarina, flute, ukelele, guitar bass, grass, spoons, drums, bagpipes, panflute, uh… a little bit of harpsichord but not much…”

Tamo proudly turned back to his hand. The rest of the table was still stuck on the conversation, and that let Tamo correct Ko and Lo’s cards. Ko would notice later, and internally debate on complaining. 

“So wait, how come we never hear you play?”

“Yeah, music would be nice.” Ato protested. “Unless you’re just good at reading sheet music and bad at the actual instruments.”

Loamol handed back the birth certificate. Link handed her another stack of papers that needed her initials or her signature on them. Her heart sank at the amount of dotted lines. She skimmed the text around them. In droll, legal terms she got the meaning of  _ legal custody _ and  _ willing and cooperative care _ , while others were things like  _ retroactive action _ and  _ affirmed verbal agreement _ . She caught the phrase  _ domestic partnership _ , but Link hadn’t signed it. 

“Link, do you know what we’re signing?”

“Yes.” He turned his attention to another page to glean through. “They’re adoption papers. You have to give authorization, since you’re not surrendering his custody to a third party. They boil down to ‘Yeah we’re sharing him, we shook on it.’ It gets a little sticky around who has rights to take him to medical professionals, and what happens if he gets in legal trouble, and I was thinking shared responsibility for those, but that means we would have to both be present to make some decisions and with this damned Living Collateral nonsense they can force me to be elsewhere...” He paused, took a breath. “Sorry.”

Loamol patted his shoulder. “Then if he is going to be mostly in my company, then perhaps we could have shared, but I have the ability to make emergency decisions on my own?”

“Yeah…” Link ruffled through the papers, trying to find the right pages. “That makes the most sense… These pages don’t even have numbers.”

Tamo waved to the guys to get their attention back on the game. Ato protested, that his question hadn’t been answered. Tamo urged Tim to take his turn to get the cards moving again. “Let Nightlight get this overwith. Then we won’t have to hear him grumble about it.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The guard saluted the guards at the Royal Courts doors. She presented the children by name, Impa by rank, and Impa introduced ‘Ghiram’ as a travelling companion. The guards took record. The four moved to go in, but the guards dropped their spears to block the adult’s paths. 

“The children, only.” One said. “Sorry, ma’am. They came alone, and though we recognize your authority under the Hylian Crown, it is technically unrelated. We are able to give you a transcript after, if you would desire one.” 

“Thank you, I would appreciate that.” Impa reached into her pouch and paid the fee. “May we wait here?”

“There is a lounge for you.” The guard who escorted Maple gestured down the hall. “We’ll inform you when we’re done.”

Maple shrugged at Gannon.  _ Adults. _ Gannon nodded.  _ Protocol. _

The two crossed the threshold into the throneroom. It was a dome-shaped room, with waterfalls of glittering water pouring through holes in the walls. They flowed into a shallow moat with layered mother-of-pearl scales over drains. Zora players had woodwinds of bamboo and steel, serenading the crown. The room was peace in a bubble, eternally undisturbed, perfectly fabricated. 

The Queen sat on the throne, her heavy features unabashed. She laid her hand on her throne’s arms in perfect control, her eyes an invitation for ambition. Her smile suggested that for all of her worn jewels and displayed treasures, her knowledge and secrets were the most sought after wealth. Zora men and women laid at her feet in the water, simply because she enjoyed their company. Gannon thought to himself how different the atmosphere was from the Hylian throne room was, and he was enamoured.

“Hello, little ones.” She whispered so that the walls of her throne room did all of the work for her. “Maple and Eko, the Capable. It seems my guard gave you a bit of a scare, and for that I hope you can forgive them.” 

Her hope was not a wish, but an instruction, and Eko-Gannon took the instruction as law. The two children were escorted to the place to stand, and instructed to kneel. Gannon found himself hesitating, and then complying.  _ It is respect, nothing more. _

“Tell me, Eko, of your family.” 

Gannon opened his mouth to speak, but Maple quickly spoke over him. She had seen something he did not. She was thinking faster than he. “He is a foundling.”

“Is he? And where did you find him?”

“He was adrift in the bay, your majesty.” Maple replied. “My grandmother swam out on her old bones to bring him ashore barely more than a week ago. He remembers little of himself.”

Gannon found a new respect for Maple. She used a simple truth to blanket implied lies. He wanted to learn to do that. He would have to talk to her later. He glanced up to see what the Queen might have been thinking, but her face revealed nothing. Instead, her son stood next to her, visibly uneasy. 

Red, but without scales like Eko-Gannon’s, and a brow as strong as his own. He was tall like the Gerudo, but lean in a way Loamol would never be. Sidon’s eyes were as dark as his own, with hints of red hues subdued. Realization slapped him silent. It was now obvious that no one had figured out his secret- and instead invented a new one for him. Maple tried not to sneak him a smile, but her heart was dancing. 

“This is my son, Prince Sidon.” The queen lifted her chin in amusement, instead of gesturing to her son. “I’m sure you see what I see. Many have seen it, and many would like to talk. Sadly for you, I know my son’s comings and goings, and I know that your Eko is old enough that it would be… mathimatically questionable for him to be my grandson. Such inconvienences of time and math are frequently ignored for good gossip, however.”

Maple radiated with poorly concealed disappointment. The queeen laughed to see it. Sidon did not, and Gannon was too anxious to have any genuine expression. No one spoke while the queen recovered from her laughter. 

“I do admire your eye for opportunity, Maple.” The queen leaned forward. Silks rippled around her, like shifting feathers. “For that, you have credit as a marksman. Fortune and whispers favour you, today. Do you know why?”

“No, your majesty.” Maple lifted her head with a smile that reflected the queen’s. “Please tell us.”  
She sat back in her throne. “I will then, because you asked nicely. If we send you on your way silently, they will whisper suspicion. If we make a formal announcement that your brother is of no relation, then they will proclaim thier suspicion loudly. If we accept formally, then my son will be plagued with questions, and suddenly inconvienent math will become a venomous accusation. So you will be accepted quietly. Perhaps then their whispers will be of curiosity, and not malice. What do you think of that?”

“We would like that very much,” Maple smiled, “if it is to please your majesty.”

Sidon opened his mouth, and turned to his mother. He did not speak, because his concerns were written on his face. She nodded gently. She cradled his face with her hand. “Your concerns are rational. I know I ask much of you, to take on a child so quickly. I do not mean for you to take full custody, only some involvement. It seems Eko here is quite content with his current arrangement with his sister Maple, and Grandmother Syrup, yes?”

The kids shared an expression of surprise. Then Maple thought to herself. Well, they were the only ones to live on the bay, and her Grandmother was a well renouned and skilled Witch. Perhaps it was easy to deduce who she was. Gannon had other thoughts. 

“Your majesty?” 

“Yes, Eko. Speak freely.”

“If I am to be taken under his wing, I would like to learn how to run a marketplace as well as you do.” He smiled at Maple, and she smiled back at him. “I would love to encourage all peoples to live as vibrantly and as freely as they do here.”

“You beg us for our secrets, because you resemble my son?” The queen narrowed her expression. 

Gannon didn’t skip a beat. “Only the wealthy ones.”

“Ha!” She lit up. Her silk rolled with excitement. “Then rise, both of you. We will have no formal induction into the family, it will illicit suspicion as I have said before, but you are always welcome in my courts. You may come and go freely, provided you mind your manners and learn dutifully. We do not waste time in these waters; rupees are swift to rush under the waves. My dear, why don’t you choose some accomodations for them? It would be good practice for you giving me true grandchildren.”

Sidon bowed with a soft smile. “Of course, mother.”

The guards opened the doors. Sidon departed his mother’s side, and awkwardly ushed the children along ahead of him. His thoughts tumbled like the rivers over rough stones. This was not how he anticipated this meeting to go. 

“Your highness?” Maple stepped gingerly through the door. It took several of her steps to match Sidon’s long strides, and Gannon hurriedly shuffled along with them. “Sorry.”

He almost tripped over them. “For?”

“Dragging you into this.” Eko said, sheepishly. “We never meant it, but it’s not something we can pass up.”

He shrugged. “I’ve had it easy for too long, my mother believes. Besides, I’m not entirely opposed, truly. You two have a dream of your own, don’t you?”

They nodded. 

“I can’t fault you for that.”

“Uncle Sidon?” Gannon looked up. 

He paused. He smiled. “Yes?”

That was all that was needed. It fit, and it took a great deal of weight off the three of them. Maple reached out and took the prince’s hand, and the prince took Gannon’s. The guards looked to one another. Nothing was said. The gossip began. It was favourable gossip, and overnight a rather attractive bachelor of a prince also became a responsible one. 

 

Sidon escorted the two children to the lounge first, where Impa and Ghirahim were playing chess. There was no clear sense of who would be winning. Major pieces were missing on both sides. They looked up. 

“We’re family.” Gannon stated simply. “Ghirahim, Impa, meet my Uncle Sidon.”  
The two, who knew better, only raised their eyebrows. Ghirahim found himself rather proud. Impa reconnected Prince Sidon to the ever growing, ever twisting web of the royal families. Sidon let go of their hands. 

“I understand it that you still had some errands to attend to?” He suggested. 

“Yes!” Maple piped, brought back to the reality that was earlier that morning. “We still have a lot of shopping to do.”

“Then I will make arrangements in your absence,” Sidon rubbed his head to sort his thoughts and floorplans into place. “I will send guards to fetch you when I have them made?”

“Thank you.” The Capables said in unison. Sidon nodded, and nearly wandered out back into the hall. A couple of guards and servants fell in line behind him to help him with the task. 

“Oh, Eko, I almost forgot.” Maple reached into her pouch. Her eyes were alight. He grabbed his hand and held it out. She put two red rupees and two blue ones into his hand. His eyes sparkled over them. “It’s what I owe you.”

Gannon took in a sharp breath. His face gave way to a toothy grin, and his resemblance with Sidon grew. “I- I won the bet?!”

She huffed. “Why are you suprised? You were so confident an hour ago!”

“The-” Gannon looked to the other two. He held back the word  _ oath _ . “-other stuff, can wait. You have to show me!”

Ghirahim looked at the chessboard. “We’ll have to finish this another time, I suppose.”

Impa looked at the board. She reached over, grabbed a pawn, and with a stroke claimed herself a second queen. She placed her deceased rook upside down in the pawn’s place. She got up from the table. “Checkmate.”

Ghirahim was pretty sure she cheated. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	17. Shapeshifters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking forward to working with Sidon as a character more. He's just a good bean.

The Councilman found himself waiting a long time. Thankfully he had business in the barraks, but he was growing impatient. Finally, after watching them from afar, his target got up and left the room. The target was massaging his hands. The councilman knew the feeling. It felt wrong, cornering him like this, but he wasn’t going to waste a workable opportunity. He followed him with casual steps. The  _ treat _ with his target was that, for all his skill, he was still predictable. 

Link left the restroom and, still feeling uneasy, decided not to return to the card room. He made his way for the outdoors. He walked through the door, sidestepped, and grabbed the person who came through behind him. Link grabbed the follower by the collar and pinned him against the barrack wall. Link’s arm pressed up against the neck under the chin.He immediately let go, but the councilman had already acted. 

The councilman shoved his hobby-gloved hand into Link’s side. “You would do well to keep your hands to yourself, boy.”

Link grimaced. He put his hand to his side where his shirt had lifted. The crystal was sinking into his skin like needles falling into a pile. The needles stuck into his hip. He could feel the crystal infect the marrow of his bones, spreading through his muscles and blood. His hair stood up on end. He could feel his heartbeat behind his eyes. He choked on the agony. He crumpled to his knees, then to his side. 

“What’s the matter, hm?” The councilman rested his hands on his knees. “Cat got your tongue?”

Link felt his bones shift and crunch, his muscles tear and rebuild. Link blacked out before the crystal reached his skull. What the councilman had expected was a cat, due to the given affinity the article mentioned. At least, he had hoped for a cat instead of a puma or another feral beast. Instead, what he got was a wolf; charcoal gray and decorated with blotches and patterns of white. 

“Hemnal, put it in the cage. Put some chicken feathers with it.” The councilman rubbed his neck. Link had struck him harder than he accounted for. “Do give it a dish of water, don’t want anything bad to happen to it.” 

Hemnal dragged the wolf, larger than the housecat they had hoped for, into a wheelbarrow. The councilman lifted the front left paw of the beast. The blue bracelet clung tight, twisting up the fur. He pulled scissors out of his pocket, and with great effort and a sore hand, cut the bracelet free. To his surprise it had copper wires, glittering stones and woven rope inside. The bracelet bled blue. He was going to have to study this himself, later. He watied for Hemnal to carry the wheelbarrow out. He dropped the scissors on the ground.

The councilman stormed inside. He coughed up a storm. He put a wheeze to his voice. “GUARDS.”

It was Link’s squad who got up first. They rushed to the hall that led out of the building. The councilman leaned against the wall, red-faced and emotionally undone. He grasped the bracelet in his hand. Loamol’s heart sunk. 

“It’s not his fault.” The councilman coughed. “I startled him, and well, he never really liked the council, and he’s just a bundle of nerves-”

“Did you see which way he went?” Loamol spoke as gently as Link would to her. “There’s a chance we can still catch him. If we can calm him down we can keep him from causing more damage.”

The councilman massaged his neck and caught his breath. “You worry for yourself, I know. This was just an accident- I’m sure we can bury this quickly. You have nothing to worry about. You’ve been on your best behaviour in all of this.”

Loamol felt uneasy. She had seen Link in a frenzy. She had seen him frightened and angry. If Link had attacked him, then he got off easy. Even if he had held back, which was possible, he wouldn’t have run. He wouldn’t have  _ fled _ , regardless of consequences. Loamol thought to herself that maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought. The squad certainly didn’t seem to hesitate. The squad was working to support the councilman. 

“Loamol, can you please tell Zelda what happened?” Tamo had a look in his eye. It was concern and worry, but the same uneasiness she felt hid behind it. “We’ll see if we can hunt him down.”

Loamol bowed. She turned out of the building, crossed the courtyard, and slipped through the servants’ entrance to the castle. The guards outside were already stirring. Her long strides carried her through the cold halls of the castle. Her thoughts drifted to the wooden box of paperwork that Link had finally finished. By the time she had come to the wing of Zelda’s chambers, already she had doubts. 

_With the paperwork finished, did Link just decide to get Gannon back? Did he flee to keep her out of it? Did… did she just need to trust him, or did she need to act?_ _Or had the councilman told the truth…?_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Maple led the way. She was interpriting what she had seen while flying to the perspective of being on the ground. The small group wound about the marketplace. Impa thought to ask where they were going (she could get them there more directly) but the kids were intent on keeping it a surprise. Ghirahim was visibly restless, simply following. He had the expression of a child walking too far. 

They wound up on a sour end of the market, where the folks were more cold. As the street became more familiar to Maple, she grew more direct. She dragged Gannon behind her until she reached a large flower implanted into the ice. It had wide pink petals and frilly green leaves. In the center of the flower sat a large, yellow bulb. 

Gannon looked at Maple. “I don’t… see anyone.”

Maple bounced in place. “He’s a Forest Octorok!”

Gannon squinted. He didn’t get to ask any questions, because the yellow bulb in the center of the flower burst open. A giant wooden coconut sprouted from it. It’s long trumpet of a mouth had no expression, but the eyes were rather cross. “That’s a  _ Deku Scrub _ , you varmaint. If you’re not here to do business, you can leave! Walk up to my flower and cuss me to my face; the nerve, the  _ audacity _ -”

“We’re looking to purchase a shield.” Impa spoke softly. He immediately calmed down. “I take it you still craft them?”  
“Craft them?!” He piped, reeling from fury to absolute delight. “We raise them up from their twiggy roots into stalwart defenses! Hundred Rupees.”

Maple and Gannon did not have one hundred rupees between them. They did not really need a shield either, but Gannon was thrilled. Here! In the marketplace! It wasn’t truly one of his own, but he had always had a soft spot for the octoroks and their simple natures. They were easy to aggitate and coax in the right direction.

Gannon folded his arms. “One Hundred Rupees? What will that get you?”

“Hm?” The Scrub raised an eyebrow. “Whatchumean?”

“What do you want to spend your hundred rupees on?” He nodded to the rest of the market. Zeel watched him intently. “Must be something special.”

“Well, yes.” The Deku kneeded his hands together. “I’m bidding on the silver scale. Worthless to you, I’m sure, but being able to breathe under water is a boon for us other folk. Helps us catch fish and waterborne debris, see?”

Gannon tapped his chin. “Silver scale, silver scale… Maple, didn’t we see another merchant, that nervous one, have a scale for 40 rupees? Oh Faore, if only he knew how much the scale was worth! A 60 rupee loss, what a shame.”

“You fib.” The Scrub scoweled. “No one would be that foolish.”

“That’s funny,” Gannon dropped his chuckle into a glare. “Because you think we’re foolish enough to buy a wooden shield for a hundred. So are there fools, or aren’t there?”

“Fine, fourty for the shield. Equal to the scale.”

“For a piece of sculpted wood?” Gannon spat. “What good will a wooden shield do me, if the moment I dive it collects debris and mold?”

“You filthy Zora,” the deku hissed. “Think you’re so pretty and superior to the rest. Just you wait, the Hylians will stab you in the back when it’s convienent and then I’ll collect the faries from your corpses to sell.”

Then he vanished back into the flower. Gannon nodded. “Thanks, Maple.”

Maple wasn’t so pleased. “What was that for? What if I wanted the shield?”

“He didn’t strike us.” Gannon beamed. “No one was watching, no one would have objected- and yet he didn’t even spit bubbles at us. Maple, this was perfect. Soon, he’ll have a better place to trade. Where he won’t have folks looking down on him.”

Maple squeezed Gannon’s hand. “It’s time to find a trinket.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The guards approached them a couple of hours later. The guards genuflected to show respect, but not a great show of it. Without a word, the two kids fell in line behind them. They were lead back downstairs. Gannon did appreciate the levels. Once you were underneath the ice, it was a whole other experience. It was quiet, where the first level underneath was still trading, it was only with the Zora and esteemed guests. They spoke in hushed tones and the water flowed from the walls in neat moats of glitter. 

Further below, the officials did their work. Further still was the royal court, and when they reached the bottom of the stairs (which Ghirahim now hated as much as grass) Sidon was waiting for them. He looked significantly less nervous than before. He greeted them with a warm, toothy grin. 

“Here, Maple, this is for you.” He handed her a small charm on a silver necklace. The charm was natural, and they immediately recognized it. “So long as you wear it you’ll be able to breathe, which means you can skip the stairs and use the Zora entrace on the side.”

Gannon paused. “Is it possible to have… a smaller one?”

Sidon raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

Gannon hesitated. He looked into his pocket. Zeel was anxious about being revealed so soon, but it was with a small group of people he was supposed to trust. He peeked into his pocket to see Zeel’s expression. It was uneasy. Gannon scooped him up anyway. Cradling him in both hands, he showed Zeel to Sidon. 

“I dropped something in the bay, and he can’t help me because he can’t breathe.” Gannon decided not to mention that it was a lyre belonging to his dad, around the person everyone suspected  _ was _ his dad. “Can we make a charm for him?”

“Oh, you have a fairy.” Sidon muttered. Thankfully for Gannon, he did not know enough about faries to jump to any conclusions. He only knew that he knew exactly  _ one _ person with a fairy, and he had questions. “You are a surprising one, aren’t you?”

Ghirahim on the other hand felt himself twist. His master had a  _ fairy _ . Of all the terrible, the obnoxious, cult-like things that the feral swordsman could have done,  _ he gave him a babysitter.  _ Furthermore, a babysitter that piggy-backed, that syphoned his power? Ghirahim contained his outrage. They could kill it later. What hurt him most was that his master seemed to  _ care _ for it. He thought to himself if this is what jealousy might be. He decided, no, this was insubordination on behalf of a bit of cannibalistic forest dust. Totally different.

“Well, I’m afraid we don’t have pendants that small.” Sidon rubbed his chin. “But I might have a better idea. I’ll speak to some craftsmen about it. Do you want to see your rooms?”  
“We get rooms?” Maple gasped. “Like to live here?”

“Well, when you’re here you’ll need a place to stay, won’t you?” Sidon beamed. “We can’t teach you much if you have to spend all of your time travelling. Come on, I think you’ll like them.”

Maple and Gannon the Capable were given identical rooms across and down the hall from one another. Gannon’s room had been quickly adapted with red bedding to match his scales, and Maple was given purple to match her dress. They weren’t especially large rooms, but they were bigger than the one Maple had at home. They were also rather empty, aside from a desk and a dresser, which made them feel far more spacious than the cluttered abode that Syrup ran. Gannon was thrilled regardless, because this was the first time he had his own room, as opposed to being with his mother or staying in the living room at Syrup’s. Both responded to the room in the same way- jumping on the bed. Sidon couldn’t hold it against them. 

“We should tell Granma Syrup we’ve been adopted by the Zora Royal Family.” Maple noted. “Besides, we have work to do.”  
Gannon nodded. “And dishes.”

Maple nodded. “There’s always dishes.”

“I guess we should head back then.”

“Well, you can take the Zora entrance back to the top.” Sidon winked. “Impa, Ghram, will you be going with them?”

“I do have personal business with Syrup.” Impa suggested. Ghirahim said nothing. He knew what was next. They were going to be escorted back upstairs. Impa came to his rescue. “Though I don’t see a reason to go back right away. Eko, Maple, why not explore a bit? You should get comfortable, so you don’t feel lost or estranged when you come back.”

“It is time for Lunch,” Sidon noted a clock in the hall. “Why don’t you explore for a bit. See if you can find the dining room in the next hour, hm?”

Gannon gleamed. “A challenge.”

Sidon departed, hesitant to return to paperwork instead of being with the kids. Maple dropped her backpack on the desk and started unpacking things that didn’t neccesarily need to come home. Gannon sat down on her bed. It was softer than the one she had at home. He could get used to this. 

“You’ve been quiet.” Gannon looked at Zeel. Zeel did not look back at him. Instead he was staring at Ghirahim. Ghirahim was staring back. Tension rose. Impa was about to step in, but Maple took charge.

“Okay, listen.” Maple closed her new bedroom door. It was a nice feeling, having a door to close instead of a curtain. “I know who Impa is. She’s a Sheikah. Granma told me about you. You serve the Princess.  _ But you, Mr. Doom ‘n Gloom, I do not know. _ ”

“Oh, that’s Ghirahim.” Gannon kicked his feet. “He’s my sword.”

“Then where was your royal guard when you were floating in the lake?” Maple put her hands on her hips. “Some guard you are.”

“I’m not his guard, I’m his sword. Sire, how much does she  _ know _ ?”

“More than I do, sometimes.” Gannon said plainly. “She knows a lot about potions.”

“That’s what a King’s Sword  _ is _ .” Maple insisted. “Like how the Hero was supposed to be the Princess’ Sword until-” 

She was going to say screwed up. Then she thought  _ ran off _ , instead. She looked at Gannon. Her statement hung in the air. 

“Until he needed him more.” Maple settled. “Zeel and I have been working to help him take his rightful place. That’s why we’re here, to get the right materials. To make connections. We have  _ real _ ambitions, and you’re gonna need to step up if you want to come along.”

Ghirahim, against his own judgement, found himself liking Maple. He looked to Gannon, and the boy extended his hand. The diamonds on Ghirahim’s figure started to turn. Then in a whirlwind, he came apart. Impa’s eyes shot open with discomfort. Maple was only stunned. At the end of the wind, Gannon sat on the bed with a large black sword, too big for him to weild yet, sitting on his lap. 

“Oh.” Maple whispered. “He’s… an actual sword.”

“That’s what I said.” Gannon rolled his eyes. “I almost feel bad for my Dad; his sword is dead. For all the good the Master Sword is supposed to do, she just doesn’t measure up to my Ghirahim.”

Ghirahim reformed on the bed next to him. “You’re  _ what. _ ”

“My Ghirahim!”

“ _ Before that. _ ”

“My… Dad?”

Ghirahim glared at Impa. “This is what I was worried about. Sire, please listen to reason. That monster is not anything of yours. He is nothing but the dog of the Princess, you know that.”

“The Hero is not a monster.” Maple hissed. She looked to the door. “He gave up everything to protect Gan, and he’s only with me and Granma because they’re going to kill him for it.”

That gave Ghirahim pause. He looked to Impa. Impa nodded. “He was arrested just before you arrived in the cavern. Death is… not exactly a concern, but he has been stripped of his title and his knighthood.”

Ghirahim didn’t know how to take this. Zeel sat on Gannon’s shoulder to comfort him. He looked to the sword-man. ”I get it, you were there for all the fights these two had, but things are different this time.”

Ghirahim rubbed his temples. There was so much wrong with this. Gannon tapped his shoulder to soothe him, and Ghirahim reverted to being a sword. For now, it was easier. 

Impa pushed off the wall. “We should find the dining room.”


	18. Branded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Child/Self Harm Warning.

Zelda closed the door behind her, leaving the confused, panicked and the over-zealous in the halls. She breathed. She had sent Loamol back to her duties. She needed to think. She held his bracelet in her hands. There were a couple of problems with this situation. 

First, Link knew the consequences of assault, but also he knew  _ well _ what defined assault. He also knew that running made any of these consequences worse. He had been on both sides of that charge more times than she could count. For him, who started plenty of fights and finished just as many, to  _ run _ , didn’t sit right with her. 

Worse was the bracelet. If he cut it off, meant he was rejecting the terms of his and Loamol’s imprisonment. That put her and Gannon by extension at the mercy of the court. Yet, the councilman had assured Loamol that this would not affect her? She stared at the fraying of the bracelet. It had been worked at, taking a few determined cuts to get through it. There were black fibers worked through the blue outer-weaving. She activated her piece of the Triforce. 

There was a lot to see. The blue goop of the bracelet twinkled, not like starlight, but like the chittering of children with secrets. Listening carefully she could hear the clips of conversation that they had shared over the connection. She saw the black fibers growing from their knotted places, all in one direction like hair. She could see the frayed fibers compressing and tearing, over and over. The bracelet remembered moving, swiftly upward (was that the sound of the barrack wall?) and then swiftly downward again. Zelda blinked off her piece.

She swivelled on her heels and cracked open her door. The guards turned to her like seagulls to bread. She held up the bracelet. “What did he cut this with?”

The guards paused. It seemed like a dumb question. Then the older guards started putting pieces together. They spoke with great suspicion. “They found a pair of small scissors with a pink handle where the councilman had been assaulted. They found bits of the bracelet wedged deep in the blades.”

Zelda threw her door open and stormed into the hall. The guards backed up out of habit. “Start searching the dungeons. Now! Go!”

They startled themselves into proper formation, split off into their pairs and fled the hall. She turned to the two at her door. “The King and Queen are in the dining room, your highness. They have already been informed of the situation.”

“Situation’s changed.” Zelda snapped. They didn’t take it personally. She tapped her bracelet on. <Loamol, are you alright?>

<Yes, your highness. Why?>

<I will check in with you every hour. If I do not, tell my parents immediately.>

<Of course, any other way I can help?>

Zelda paused. <Actually…>

 

No matter how many times she burst through the doors with an announcement, it always made the Queen tense up. At least she was not eating when Zelda entered. She watched her daughter cast out the guards, close the doors and otherwise make a kerffufle of ensuring they were alone. She flashed her eyes of the triforce at them to get them to move faster, threatening to spill their secrets if she couldn’t keep her own. 

“Zelda, dearheart.” the King sighed and sat back in his chair. “You have every right to be upset, but please do not take it out on the staff.”

“We’re in danger.” Zelda whispered over the table. “The council is moving, just like he said they would.”

“We only know that the councilman and Link got into a scrap.” the Queen sat her daughter down next to her with a gentle hand. “Doesn’t mean they completely turned on us.”

Zelda held up the bracelet as proof of her claim. Her parents stared at it. That did make them uneasy, they knew how it broke the contract. The king held out his hand and Zelda placed it in his palm. 

“You’re going to have to catch us up,” he said. “Why did he cut this?”

“He didn’t.” Zelda said calmly. She pointed to the fraying. “The guards found scissors at the barracks. That part makes sense, that lines up. What doesn’t line up is Link. He’s left handed, he can’t use scissors. I mean, he could make it work but it wouldn’t be a clean cut like this.”

“That and scissors would be the sensible thing to do.” The queen allowed herself a chuckle. “He’d never think of it.”

“Which means someone else cut it off him.” the King’s heart sank. “Is the gerudo mother alright?”

“For now.” Zelda frowned. “But… if they managed to get it off him, that means he didn’t win that fight. And I know for a fact the Councilman could not have taken him. Old bastard.”

“ _ Zelda _ .”

“Why is there fur in this?” Between his fingers, he held a long, bent piece of black hair.

“He’s probably sneaking cats into the barracks,” the Queen plucked the hair from his fingers. She studied it for herself. “Although, this doesn’t look like cat hair. I’ve cleaned enough of it out of my cloaks to remember...”

Zelda’s head raced. Fur. If it wasn’t a cat then it was likely a dog. While Link had a mastery of sneaking cats, he normally left dogs alone. He had a thing about dogs- not a hatred; more of a uneasiness. He used to get nightmares about-

“Wolves.” Zelda whispered. “The crystals we brought back from the research dig. I don’t know how but they were connected to the realm of Twilight, and back in the 1300’s, there was a thing about _ their _ Princess and…” Zelda leaped out of her chair. “ _ He might be in the managery! _ ”

The king and queen did not wait for more details. Zelda had an idea of where Link might be, and the rest was secondary. The king wrapped his cloak around Zelda’s shoulders. He called some soldiers to follow them, and servants to clean up the dessert. He wanted that pie, but he could steal some later when the wife wasn’t looking. 

 

Zelda marched through the late evening and the damp grass. The guards were still swarming. The king and queen did their best to keep up with her, but they were getting on in years. She paced through the cages of beasts her father had captured over the years. Most were wide awake, and watching. Beasts of all breeds watched them with amusement, or animosity. 

Except one. One cage, with the floor littered with feathers, had its beast curled up in the corner. Zelda picked up her dress and bolted for it. Her parents, watching their daughter run for a cage, chased after her with their hearts far ahead. She wrapped her hands around its bars, but the beast did not move. They were partially relieved. 

“Hey, get away from there!” One of the keepers ran up. “Oh, Princess, uh,  _ please your highness, _ get away from there. That’s not one of your father’s. Found it in the chicken coup. It’s sedated now, but it might wear off soon...”

Zelda cast a glare of suspicion to her parents. They stayed a fair distance away. It was hard to see in the dark, but she could see some of the white markings. She walked around the cage to get closer. Her parents fought to keep their composure. She held up her hand and the triforce shone from it. The beast lifted its head, and the light shone from its eyes. It blinked it away, and laid down its head before the keeper could catch up to Zelda and see it. 

Zelda hesitated. “It seems tame enough to me.” 

“Tame? It doesn’t matter if it bites, Zelda,” the King walked close to the cage. He watched Zelda’s face. “A beast must be broken. Then it can be trained. Then it can be domesticated.”

“Are we missing any chickens?” the queen asked. 

“Thankfully, no.” the keeper wrung his hands nervously. “But we don’t know where it came from-”

“Well, its possible it came from the city. It is a dog...of sorts.”

“I have never seen a dog like that, highness.”

Zelda put her hand through the cage and scratched behind the dog’s ears. It didn’t move.  _ Trained _ … she gave her father a smile. “Speak.”

The wolf looked at her. Then it looked at the others. It sat up. They saw it was bigger than most dogs, but somehow smaller than most wolves. It looked at Zelda, then gave a small “ _ Bwoof _ .”

The king gestured to the keeper, then to the lock on the cage. The keeper swallowed his heart. There was no asking if the king was sure, or if he wanted to reconsider. He was a bold man, who  _ had _ fought most of these animals with his bare hands. The keeper reached for his keys. He unlocked the door. The wolf, to the keeper’s surprise and no one else’s, didn’t move. 

“Wolf, heel.” 

The wolf dragged itself from the cage, more or less stumbled out of it. It kept its head low. It walked to the king’s heels, turned around, and laid down beside his feet. It laid its head down on its paws. 

“Honey,” the king said with a smile, “I think we have ourselves a dog.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Well fed, a bit tired, plenty excited, Maple and Gannon bid their goodbyes to the guards on shift at the gates. As the sun threatens to set, the denizens of the city leave to get a move on the road, or bunker down for the night. Impa bought a horse. With Ghirahim a bit heavy for Gannon yet, she straps him onto her own back. She had expected to take relief in his silence. She found it foreboding and concerning, instead. She saw the children onto Maple’s broom, and as they took up skyward, she nudged her horse to ride. The few times she had allowed herself to ride Epona had spoiled her, and she found herself chasing the broom’s shadows with more ambition than the steed could sustain. It earned its feed and then some. 

Impa wondered if Ghirahim saw as much as she did. Knowing Link, it was easy to see his influence on Gannon- for one thing he was taking to gambling a little too easily for Impa’s liking. He had also seem to have taken up an optimisim that had one parent in ambition, and another in denial. What surprised Impa was his lack of animosity. She had expected an inborne loathing or a vengence in his spirit. Zelda had carried it young, and Link could carry a grudge for years, but Gannon, who she expected it in the most, seemed the quickest to dismiss. He had a concern for his parents, but no visible spite for the Hylians who captured them. Impa found herself confused, and for the first time she liked it. 

It had been ages since she had been here. She dismounted, and tethered the horse to the stairs. She looked upon the witch’s cottage. It hadn’t changed. The bay was calm, the bubbling of the river into its salty reserves always thereputic. Maple touched down on the lawn, more or less crashed, and picked Gannon up off the ground. She dusted him off while he regained his balance. They were an odd pair. They clammered up the steps with as much noise as an entire herd of small people. 

She turned to see the side of the house. On the grass, leading out to the bay, were charms. It was a small garden of planted charms, for safety, for good luck, for wisdom and courage, for common sense, for safe return- and in the center, a burial. Impa did not need to read the engraved wooden pole to know who it was. She decided to go inside; Ghirahim was getting heavy. 

Walking into Syrup’s hut, especially for those who have been here before, is an alien experience. It is coming home, but there is no place for you. It is coming to the sages and the oracles, but instead of answers they hand you a cloth to do the dishes. Syrup, in Impa’s opinion, was only a person because she had no satisfactory alternative. The house was alive in the sense that it was asleep, still working, still serving, never knowing it could be anything else. Walking into Syrup’s hut, Impa understood why Link never came home. This was a place that you only came to because you had to, you had no options left, and Syrup always knew. 

“Impa.” Syrup greeted the guest without looking up, without taking her eyes off the couldron, without paying any mind to the two children taking apart Maple’s bag in the living space. The couch had sheets draped over it. It was so familiar. “You’re early.”

“Better to anticipate, than to react.” Impa whispered. Gannon’s fairy came out of his pocket, stretched as if waking, and then dissolved the illusion. The scales of the zora fell from him like dust in sunbeams. Impa took in the young gerudo boy, his hair braided a bit too tight, laughing with Maple. He had dimples. There was no gem in his forehead. He was just a boy, but on his right hand was the mark. The fairy sat in his hair and together they laughed with Maple. 

“It’s surreal, isn’t it?”

“Mm.” Impa replied. She set Ghirahim on the floor, leaning against the wall. She started on the dishes in the sink. 

“It’s dangerous, this.”

Impa didn’t have a response. 

“This will only end badly for the children.” Syrup spoke not with concern or love, but with condescending knowledge. Impa knew she spoke of the grown children, and not the two in the living room. “Maybe we’ll be lucky, and their recklessness will give us a gentler end than if they had left it alone.”

Impa had admitted to herself that she did not like this, in the beginning. She had also decided to make the best of it. Perhaps that was all Syrup meant. All the threads of her soul disagreed. There was no dismissing the probing, unsettling atmosphere. Impa wished she was as immune to Syrup’s spirit as the children seemed to be. 

“Did you get what you needed?” Syrup asked out into the house. 

“We uh,” Maple winked to Gannon, and Syrup pretended not to see it. “We decided to wait. Can we go play outside?”

“No.” Impa commanded. “It will be dark soon. Stay in the house.”

Maple looked to her grandmother, who only nodded. Impa was right. Stalchildren would be coming out of the earth. The kids shared a facial expression. Maple stood up and Gannon hopped off the couch to follow her. “We’ll just play in my room, if that’s okay?”

“Don’t make a mess you can’t clean up before dinner.” Syrup banged her spoon on the pot. “You’ve got an hour, and then it’s dinner, chores, bed. No excuses.”

The kids scampered down the hall with Maple’s bag in tow. Impa found her eyes tracking them. Syrup threw her more dishes to wash. Impa wished that she hadn’t- the Sheikah’s hands were slippery and had a hard time catching airborne jars. “Leave the children be.”

“They’re up to something.” Impa frowned. “Let me check on-”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Syrup snapped. Impa felt her anger flare up. “Leave the children to their own devices. It’s the only way they’ll learn. Think if I had prevented the boy from running off?”

“If you had taken the care to raise him, he may have succeeded.” Impa snapped. She left the dishes where they were. Impa picked up Ghirahim and marched to the back of the house. As her feet neared Maple’s room, they stopped making progress. She slid in place, no matter how hard she pushed. The air pushed back. Impa’s heartrate jumped. She couldn’t get near them, but she could see them. Gannon was holding fire. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gannon whispered. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“That’s how you know it’s real.” Maple replied. “Never trust a sweet potion, right?”

Gannon held a small fire on the back of his hand. His triforce wasn’t glowing, but he could feel it. It was hard to keep from lighting up while he was using magic. Zeel hovered over his shoulder. “I still don’t like this.”

“Yeah, well two against one.” Maple rolled down her sock. “We all agreed on this. You know this is the best for everybody.”

“Maple, I appreciate that you-”

“Gannon, I’m sorry to say it like this but I have to.” Maple took the wax seal out of her bag. Gannon braced. “The hero failed, Zeel. The story is supposed to go that the princess and the hero work together and seal Gannon, and then there’s peace for a long time. That didn’t happen, it didn’t work, so now we need to find peace another way before more people die. This is our solution. We get a new city, there’s bidding wars instead of bloody ones. We’re doing this.”

Maple passed the wax seal to Gannon, and he held it over the fire on his hand. The flames licked around the brass. Maple rolled up Gannon’s pantleg so his ankle was fabric free. They nodded. Gannon pressed the seal against the outside of his ankle. Hissing, he said:

_ I swear that I will declare no war on Hyrule, on the condition that we may be an allied people, to trade and coexist. My people, from the Bokoblins to the Gerudo, will be full citizens, each individual protected by the law so long as they uphold it. _

 

Gannon pried the seal from his ankle. He kicked his foot to get the cool air to calm it. It didn’t. He wanted to touch it, to soothe it, but he knew he could not. The fire went out on the back of his hand. He groaned through his teeth. He let slip a few swears in a language Hyrule had long forgotton. 

Maple squashed her second thoughts. She took his hand with the triforce. She chuckled. “I don’t think I can say anything as formal as all that.” 

“I had more time to prepare.” Gannon laughed. He looked at his hand and uttered words under his breath. A new flame flared over the back of his hand. He passed the handle of the wax seal to Maple. It was still hot. 

Maple let it heat up over his hand, looked to the ceiling, shoved her sock all the way down, and pressed the seal hard against the skin. She looked Gannon in the eye to keep from looking at the burn. 

 

_ I swear that I will aide you to the throne of your people, that you might bring the violence of your people to an end, in line with your oath to not be at war with Hyrule. _

 

She pulled it from her skin and threw it into a jug of water. They sat on the floor, quiet. Zeel settled into Gannon’s hair. There was nothing more to be said. The kids complained about the pain and beamed about their hope for their futures.

 

Syrup put an unwelcome hand on Impa’s shoulder. The air that pushed her back dissipated. “They grow up so quickly, don’t they?”

Impa turned on her heels and marched out of the house. She walked around the grave and its charms. She sat by the bay. She laid Ghirahim into the grass. She wasn’t sure if he could hear her in this state. “I hope you’re getting some rest in there, because we’re leaving just before the sun rises in the morning.”

The sword didn’t answer.

“I never should have left him here.” Impa muttered. Ghirahim said nothing- he knew the feeling. “I should have stolen him and never looked back, and I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake again.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	19. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do I need warnings on this chapter? Oh, a bit of domestic violence.

Impa slept on the floor beside the couch. She did not sleep through the night, due to the tossing and turning of the boy. She watched the light from his hand reflect against the coffee table. She reached up and held his hand, the way she had done for Zelda. His breathing eased.

“Impa.” His voice reverberated, like a whisper from another realm. Impa turned her head to see Ghirahim un-sworded. “If we put them on the horse, we can protect them. We can cover ground before the witch wakes. If we make good time, we can reach the Castle by sundown.”

Impa sat up. On the table, Ghirahim had laid out a map, and was fiddling with a compass. She took in the map. It was hard to see in the dark. Reluctantly, she held up Gannon’s hand so that his light illuminated the table. They made a plan B, in case they did not make good time.They added a slight detour on the line to stop at the Ranch to rest.

“I’d hate to drive them on half a night’s sleep,” Impa glanced at the back room, “but distance is prefered. I’ll wake Maple.”

Ghirahim gently wrapped the sheet around Gannon. He tucked in the sides and loose fabric, and scooped the boy into his arms. Gannon turned to rest his face on Ghirahim’s chest. Perhaps Maple had been right- he should have been here sooner. He stared at the scabbing burn on his master’s ankle. For a sword, he was feeling too many things right now.

Zeel rustled through the fabrics and escaped the bundle. He looked at Gannon, then to Ghirahim. His heart softened. “What’s happening?”

“Impa is taking custody.” Ghirahim spoke as low as his voice would allow. “We’re leaving for the castle.”

“You’re going to allow the Princess’ nursemaid to take your master, hm?” Zeel smirked. He recast the illusion of a zora for Gannon, not that there was much to see in all the bedsheet.  
“She’s...” Ghirahim squinted, more at his own thoughts to see them clearly. “More practical than the others. More rational. I loathe to go to that castle until we’ve taken it, but she doesn’t have the same authority where the Zora have prepared board for him. If we go to the castle, the witch has little power to take him back.”  
“That, and it’s where his parents are.” Zeel sat on Gannon’s chest. His soft red glow made long shadows in the folds. “Despite your opinions, he would like to see them.”

“The…  _ assumed _ father aside, he does need his mother. She can protect and teach him in ways I cannot. That alone is worth tolerating the other.”

It took a few moments for Impa to come out, barely leading Maple by the hand. Impa carried Maple’s bag over one shoulder. She nodded. They quietly left the house, taking their time closing the doors. Ghirahim had half a mind to loot the house for useful things, but Impa would have none of it. 

“Your hero would have.” Ghirahim whispered. They propped the kids up on the horse. Gannon slowly came to. “I’m rather sure he did.”

“I do not approve of his methods.” Impa whispered. She took the horse’s reins. She drew her sword. She made hard eye contact with the two children. “If you start to sleep, or if you feel you are going to fall, tell us immediately. We’re going to keep this pace until sunrise, and then make camp. Is that understood?”

The children nodded, groggy and uncertain. It would have to do.

  


~*~*~*~*~*~

To Link, a wolf is just a dog with drama. Ever since he started having his memories, he remembered a wolf. He remembered dying to Gannon a lot, but that somehow didn’t unnerve him as much as wolves did. From what he could figure, his earliest memory of  _ being _ a wolf was punishment for tresspassing. As someone who was supposed to go into Temples and be considered a hero for it, these were mixed messages. Everyone seemed to be in agreement that dogs were good, benevolent, and beloved. They prevented trespassing, and were cute. He was also supposed to be good, benevolent and beloved, but was supposed to trespass. Instead of coming to a conclusion, Link simply avoided dogs. 

This was no longer going to work. The good news was that he was adjusting to his new form, and the pain was  _ finally _ starting to fade. The walk from the managery to the study had been a difficult one. For his perserverence, he was rewarded with a rug in front of the fire. It was a wonderful reward. The warmth soothed his sore muscles, and though it was hard to sleep, at least he could relax.

“So… the stones from the Research can turn people into animals?” The king leaned back into his armchair. 

“I don’t think that’s it.” Zelda sat by Link with her books scattered around her. “If I’m translating correctly, the form is a defense mechanism. I’m… not entirely sure how that works, or what that’s even supposed to mean. It does imply that the stones are something like a poison, or a corrosive.”

The Queen stood out of her chair and eased herself onto the floor. She stroked the fur between his ears, massaging his head and the back of his neck. Link rested his head in her lap. It felt like being a child again. “Hang in there, dearheart.”

“We do still need to deal with Link being missing.” The king looked to the mantle. Above it hung the painting of himself and the queen when they were young. He had his expectations of the next painting in the line, but looking at Link and Zelda now, that didn’t seem likely. Zelda was buried in her books, and Link was putting his walls up again. “It is a wild accusation to claim a councilman turned a soldier into a dog.”

“I know that’s what happened.” Zelda insisted.

“And everyone will think your  _ opinion _ of the events are biased,” the queen reminded her. She started scratching underneath his chin. He melted into it. “And then we have to handle the council breaking an oath, but also raising a hand against my boy. All of this needs to be handled correctly, dear.”

“Yes, by taking them to  _ court _ .” Zelda groaned. “We can show he has the triforce, so we know who he is. We show them the books that  _ recorded how this happened before _ , and the scissors. He already claims that they were together, outside, in conflict. This is an open and shut. We imprison him for abuse of power, and keep a close eye on the others.”

“We are at war, Zelda,” the king said. “It is important that the people know the heart is strong. How can we protect our villages if we are currently dealing with disputes within the castle? There will be rioting. We will have dealt with the immediate problem, but starting fires we cannot reach.”

Zelda paused. Her hair covered her face, but the three of them knew that her eyes were lit. Link rolled over on the rug so that the fire warmed his back. He stared at the bracelet in her hand. “...If it was justified for the councilman to do this, then we could tell the truth, and avoid backlash of a government divided… If he genuinely believed that it was unlawful benevolence, or preventative action... ”

Link lifted his head. He looked to the queen. She knew. “That… could work. And it’s an act that puts you in a good light, even if it may look like a threat in the eyes of the council...”

The king and Zelda looked up. The king raised his eyebrow. “Are you keeping secrets from me, my dear?”

“Yes,” the queen beamed. “Link had… myseriously obtained the proper paperwork to legally adopt the boy. Granted this is the right thing to do, but  _ especially _ due to assumptions between our daughter and he, anyone can understand why the Council would be spooked by such a thing.”

Zelda scoffed. “Well, that would work, but it would require him doing a lot of paperwork, which will be impossible without hands.”

“The papers only need to be in his possession in order to provoke suspicion,” the king smiled. He reached over and ran his hands through Link’s fur. It was too thick, too soft to resist. Link on the other hand was happy to be petted; soothing his soreness. “They will be easy to find, because he will have few possessions to go through in the barracks. I imagine his squad also knows about this?”

“They do,” said the queen, “as does the mother.”

“Then it’s settled. Zelda, since you’re the one who wanted us to keep Wolf to begin with, please see to it that he gets fed. Set him up with a bed here in the study.” He laughed to himself. “Be sure to walk him in the morning.”

“If we’re going to tell the truth there’s no sense in pretense.” Zelda scowled. “We can go to the barracks now, get the papers, and he can sleep in his cot where he’s supposed to. Though… I suppose the townsfolk would be apprehensive of a wolf walking around the streets for patrols.”

“Well, you’re right about getting the paperwork.” The queen tapped Link’s shoulder. He picked up his head and rolled over so she could get up. She leaned against the chair to get to her feet. “Your squad should be back from searching the city, also. You’ll have another chance to frighten your friends, won’t you? I know you love that.”

_ Please don’t make me walk back to the barracks. _ Link whined. He laid down on the rug. His tail beat against the floor in protest; and he realized how comfortable he felt on four paws. He had expected to feel uncoordinated, or strained, but as the pain waned it felt natural.  _ I have had a long day, everything hurts, and I still feel stiff in the neck from being beheaded. _

“You’re not going to get up, are you?” Zelda nudged him. Link didn’t budge, except to beat his tail. It was oddly thereputic. “Well, you know we can’t eat in the study. Then again you ate with the others;  _ are _ you hungry?”

He could eat, but not worth getting up for. So he didn’t. Zelda nodded. She nudged herself closer. She sunk her hand into the fur between his ears. She smiled at how fluffy he was. She remembered how affectionate they used to be as kids; hugging for greetings, high fives at every opportunity, pillow fights. One does not resist petting the family dog, but knowing it was Link did make it feel…  _ odd _ . She took her hand back. “I guess we could stay here in the study for a bit longer.”

Her parents were the first to leave, perhaps by intention. The two sat in silence, even long after the fire burned out. Zelda fell asleep before Link did, with her head on his back. The last time they had relaxed in this room… That was the night before he left. It was almost full circle. Link rest his head on his paws. It would still be hours before he slept.

  


~*~*~*~*~*~

  


Zobolph and Osiel had been betrothed to one another young, a prince and his future bride, a lady of the court. They had not spent much time in one another’s company until their late teens, when their parents invested more time to appease one another. They had accepted it. Thankfully, they got along easily. This was not to say they were well behaved, because as they came to realize they enjoyed one another’s company, they began to sneak out to do things. It was not like their parents suspected, taking the fruits of marragie early. Instead they ran off to do other dumb things that youth are prone to do, like test the limitations of their constitution. It was rather common that they became ‘mysteriously sick’ in their first years together. Occasionally the parents suspected drugs, only to find frogs that no one should be licking. They were, in fact, taking turns being stupid in ways that a strict upbringing had never allowed. This made them rather well rounded, albeit secretive people, as King and Queen of Hyrule. None of this nonsense however had prepared them to be parents of a bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom. It rather threw them for a loop. 

Thankfully for them, other parents of the Triforce of Wisdom had wisdom of their own. There were notes. There were records and narratives and advice that could only be seen in the odd hours of the night. There were annotations from age to age, one generation translating for another for the future. There were some pages with arguments in the margins. Some were blunt, some were formal, and some were simple expressions that humanized the past and empathized with the future. These books, these journals, kept the current rulers sane through Zelda’s formative years. They were the secret weapon, and Impa was the only other person permitted to skim its pages. (There were plenty of notes written by other nursemaids of the past, fellow Sheikah who had their own way of giving practical advice.) Through the guidance of the ages, Zelda grew to be fairly stable and capable in her own right. 

There were no books, however, on raising the Bearer of Courage. There was nothing on how to coax him down from the parapets where he was lighting fireworks. There was nothing on how to keep him out of the cupboards where the desserts were hiding. There was no wisdom, no bloody clues, on how to get the boy to accept help when he fell silent for days, weeks, months. There was no tried and true method for disciplining him for taking every rupee he could find; every shiny object that crossed his path. There was no advice on how to explain why he shouldn’t be in the Princess’ room at night, or how to take it when he claimed that he had every right to her bedroom as her husband. There was no protocol on what to do when he stood on your bed in the darkest hours of the night, his eyes aglow and a spear in his hands. The two did the best they could and thankfully their first years together became quite the resource on how to handle a secretive, cunning, idiotic disaster. 

Armed together with records and experience, the two did what no Kings or Queens had done before them. They raised Link and Zelda together as best they could. They knew that their story wasn’t over. The fairytale that they had been taught had not run its course correctly, and so the characters would have to adapt. Unsure what to prepare them for (does any parent truly know?) they did their utmost to make rational, functional people out of them. For the most part, they succeeded. This was mostly because of what they did when all else failed. They talked to one another. This was seen as a revolutionary, and while strange method of parenting, effective. 

“Okay.” Osiel slipped into her nightgown. “Our son is a wolf, what do we need to be worried about?”

“Uh,” Zobolph sat on the bed, staring into space. “Shedding? Him chewing on our slippers?”

“It can’t be any worse than him pouring milk in them.” The queen laughed. She tucked her hair into her nightcap. The king nodded to her suggestion, but didn’t take his eyes off space. She kept the conversation going. “He… did seem to be in a bit of pain.” 

“He’s always in pain,” he said. He turned his head to his wife, “But you’re right. He’s showing it more than usual.” His eyebrows went up. “Oh, we should see what he can and cannot eat. See if the normal herbs will be harmful, first. Keep him away from chocolate. That sort of thing.”

“Good points.” Osiel wrote them down in the notebook. There had not been a notebook when they had first taken Link in, but there were two volumes now. “Also he cannot sign, nor is he able to speak. We’re back to square one on how to listen to him.” 

Zobolph sighed. That was unfortunate. “He did at least seem to  _ want _ to talk to us, for a change. He did participate in the discussion, in his own way. He’s come a long way in that regard.”

“I think it’s because of… well, the  _ boy _ .” She passed the book to her husband so that he could add his own thoughts in his own hand. “He’s never been so collected about being defiant. He’s usually all over the place- can’t decide if he wants to hide or riot. You saw him at the summoning. He looked you dead in the eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if that paperwork was finished, already. Loamol  _ was there _ when he was… ‘turned’. She had no business in the barracks, unless she’s requested.”

 He didn’t have an immediate response to that. He was worried about Link, but there was something steeled about him. Worse off, if all assumptions were correct, then- “I think we should buy another journal. One with a red cover this time.”

She understood implicitly. She nodded. She sat down on the bed beside him and held her husband’s hand. “We did alright with the other two. I think this one is going to be a lot harder.”

The king nodded. “I know Link wants to do it on his own, but he expects too much of himself. If anyone can help him raising a bearer, it’s going to be us. And… I believe you are right, my love. He is more focused. For once, I think he’ll actually accept the help.”

She started to laugh. He didn’t know why, but he laughed with her. They laughed together, spurring one another on, for a good minute. Eventually she wheezed. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Zobolph looked at the journal in his hand. He waved it like an answer. “We show them. We teach them to do this.”

She smiled. “Zelda would love the prospect of taking notes for the future. It would be nice to have her perpsective on her own upbringing, also. Maybe leave herself advice through her future parents.”

“That’s a disastrous thought.” 

“It is.”

“They’re going to be terribly embarressed by some of the things in here.” He laughed. “Then again, I suppose we wouldn’t be doing our job if we didn’t embarress them.”

“That’s true.”

The king paused. “Did you recognize the song he used when he sent the boy off?”

“I did not,” she sighed. “Why, did you?”

“I was hoping I didn’t.” The king slipped under the covers and set the green book on the nightstand. “But the more I think about it, the more sure I am.”

She didn’t have an immediate response. Her thoughts wound down to the same conclusion. “He wouldn’t send the boy there unless he felt he truly had no other choice.”

“Which means that right now, he has no trust in us.” The words stung them both. They understood why. They knew how their not-officially-their son came to the conclusion he did. They had never called him their son, but they had hoped their actions would say what the papers could not. 

“Well, maybe then instead of sending him on patrol with his squadron tomorrow,” the queen slid in beside her husband and rest her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “We can keep him with us for the time being. Zelda was right, the townsfolk would lose their minds over a wolf, much less one that looks like the monsters at the gates, patrolling the town like a bloodhound. Perhaps time with family is what he needs.”

They turned off their lamps at the bedside. In the dark, they stared at the ceiling. There was only one thought left to add. He hesitated to say it. He kissed his wife on the forehead. “You know, this may be the first time all three bearers have been in one family.”

That was enough to think about in silence until they fell asleep. 

  


~*~*~*~*~*~

  


Rupees slipped into the pocket of a guard. The guard looked the other way, but kept his mouth shut. Jokoh reached into his purse again. He pulled out a purple piece. “Here, now fucking talk.”

The guard shook his head. It wasn’t worth it. Letting him in was one thing. There was no way to prove who he was; and guards let lovers in all the time. To tell this guy where she was? That was out of the question. That was far above paygrade and not worth the guard’s life. He fixed his attention on the next post on his pace around the castle grounds. 

“Fuck it, she’s the only one of her breed here. Can’t be too hard to find.” He kept his money. He marched across the well-kept grass with a murderous gait. Servants noticed him, but they had seen guards let in lovers all the time. It must have been a simple quarrel. They giggled between themselves.  _ Maybe that’s one of Jillia’s lovers. Shame he only just found out she ain’t gonna remember his name. Maybe it’s that weird guy Hane was talking about. Did you know that Hane is into some weird stuff? Jillia spilled some beans to get some heat off herself- _

Jokoh marched into the kitchens. He helped himself to a slice of pie. He pulled a knife from the block. Leaning against a counter he smiled at one of the smaller girls in the kitchen. “I’m looking for that Gerudo.”

The girl shook in her sandals. She didn’t have the resolve to come up with a whitty thing to say. “I-I don’t know, I really don’t know.” 

“Well, chicken-shit, maybe if you think about it, you might have an answer.” He smiled. It clashed wth the fury in his eyes. “Now where is she  _ supposed _ to be?”

“I don’t handle assignments-” she whimpered. A gentle hand pulled her back behind the chef. He already had the cleaver in his hand from the beef. She shook like a leaf. “I’m sorry.”

“Listen, Hylian.” The chef was a Goron, and honestly had no fear of a pearing knife from the knifeblock. “I don’t care what business you have with the Gerudo bitch, but I suggest you drop it. We don’t like her here anymore than you do, but she’s protected, and that means we all gotta play nice. We all have families to feed, so turn tail and go back to your pub or whatever to drown your sorrows in.”

Jokoh nodded. He flipped the knife in his hands, not that it impressed anyone but the shaking girl. “See, that’s the thing. This  _ is _ work, and it  _ is _ my business, and unfortuna-fucking-tely, it may also be family. I’m here to make sure it’s not. So how about you mind your own business, and I mind mine, hm? Sound good to you?”

The kitchen didn’t stop, but it did prick its ears. Everyone heard it. Most of them understood it. Jokoh took the stillness of the moment to turn on his heels and leave the kitchen. No one was going to follow him. No one was going to bother him. One does not mess with a man’s family. Everyone made excuses on why there was no reason to defend a bad family, anyway. It was better to leave the dogs to the dogs, sometimes.

  


Loamol was doing laundry. There was a fair amount of it in the castle at any given hour. Most of the laundry was actually from the servants themselves. The barracks had a fair amount too. She never saw the laundry of anyone above. She loaded up her basin and scooped in the tallow. She was used to quiet work, surrounded by servants who would rather stay quiet around her, but she felt the atmosphere change. Some of the servants got up and left their laundry in the basins. Others picked up their washing boards the way a soldier picks up a sword. 

“Too good for brothels now, are we?” He smiled. It was the same clashing smile he wore anytime he  _ wanted _ . Her skin crawled. Her heart devoured itself to hide. Vulnerability and shame fell over her, and with them came anger. She looked at the bracelet on her wrist. With Link gone, there was no one to protect her. She realized Zelda could still be reached, but Loamol decided against it. There was no point in troubling her. “Hey, Lomil, I’m fucking talking to you. Show some respect. Surely being in this ritsy dump has taught you some basic fucking courtesies. Well?”

“I owe you nothing,” she said. She started washing the clothes. “My debts are paid and my work is done. If you don’t mind, I have work to do here in my ritsy dump.”

He nodded. He nodded hard. The servants with their washboards backed against the wall. He slung himself from the doorframe and swept across the floor. He grabbed her by the shoulder, his thumb on the back of her neck. “I know what you did. It seems everyone does. Talk of the town, really.”

 “You chose not to follow the rules.” Loamol dared. He pushed his thumb upward against her neck. Already bent over the basin, she crumbled under his hand. He held her face close to the tallow water. 

“So he is mine.” Jokoh hissed. “And you thought, hey, I got to steal some prize from this Hylian. He doesn’t need to know, right? He’s just a customer, right? I can keep whatever I want? What, you thought that you could just  _ keep _ what was mine?”

“It’s not-”

“Oh, oh! I see!” He pushed her face into the water and she came up sputtering. “So you thought that all that power, all that potential, came from  _ you _ ? Do your daughters have anything valuable to them? Not outside of that whorehouse they don’t. The only reason you have a strong son is  _ me _ . So, harlot, I want what is rightfully mine. That boy is gonna make me wealthy like I fucking deserve. Heh, those are  _ my _ armies, and  _ my _ castles, and  _ my _ -”

He stopped because he screamed. He had burned his thumb. It took him a minute to clock what he had burned his thumb  _ on _ . The servants who had seen a fair bit of magic in this castle had quickly put the scene together. The hair that had tangled around his thumb had turned to flames. Some of the hair was ice, but he hadn’t been that lucky. Jokoh was never lucky.

Loamol felt her scalp burning and freezing. In truth, she was terrified. She cursed the Temple of Time, but also herself for going in there to begin with. Neither of those mattered now. This grimey creature of a Hylian had threatened her son. Now, she had resolved that Gannon was not a monster- but she had never said anything about herself. She got to her feet. Already being a Gerudo made her a good head or three taller than Jokoh, but as the fires reached upward toward the ceiling and the ice collected more water out of the air, her imposing figure grew. She only had to look him in the eyes, and all the power that she had ever lost to him was back in her hand. It wasn’t healing, it wasn’t revenge, it was only a power shift that she was going to lose if she did not act quickly. 

“Your sins count against you, Jokoh.” Loamol did not whisper. She announced it. The servants in the room heard her clear as crystal and the servants in the hall had no doubts. The servants in the next room heard exactly what she said, but had no context. “You have no power. You have no strength. You have no claim. You only have your debts, and they outweigh you.”

Jokoh had not planned for this. Jokoh had only ever used chump change in larger denominations to assert his power. He did not have a rupee big enough to pay off arcane retrobution. 

“He is my son, and by blood, my son alone.” Loamol announced. “Guards, remove this louse. He interrupts my work.”

The guards could not argue with the statement that Jokoh was an interruption. They snuck around Loamol, siezed Jokoh, and politely advised him not to try this shit again. Once he was gone, Loamol focused on being herself. She turned her focus to her laundry. The servants continued not to talk to her. She knew that the invoulentary performance would score her some enemies. What she didn’t know was that some of the servants found the whole thing rather impressive, and if treated well, would eventually become her friends. 

  


~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	20. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am now worried if King Zolbolph knows what furries are.

Maple flew on her broom. Impa sat on the horse with Gannon, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. Ghirahim was walking, keeping pace with the horse. Impa saw him walking, sauntering even, but he was doing it at the same speed  _ as the horse _ . He stared back at her, waiting for her to say something. It wasn’t worth the effort. They were all tired, but at least the Ranch was nearby. They could rest. They could eat. Whatever witchcraft Ghirahim was made of just wasn’t worth the little stamina she had left. 

The ranch was the largest one in Hyrule field, mostly because it choked out or bought up any of the others that tried to muscle in on the territory. Tall fences wrapped around it several times. They were more to keep others out than to keep animals in. In peaceful times this had always been suspicious, but now that Moblins and Lizalfols and other such things were about, madness had revealed itself as wisdom. 

“Can I fly in ahead?” Maple groaned. “I can tell them we’re coming.”

“No.” Impa eased the horse to flank against the fences. “Respect the fence, Maple.”

“I’m not gonna burn it down.” Maple rolled her eyes. “I’m just-”

“It’s not about the fence, the thing.” Ghirahim looked up to Maple. She lowered her broom so that she flew at the height of his shoulders. “It’s about their fear, and their false sense of security that the fence provides. The fence is wholely inadiquite to protect them, but so long as they believe in it, they will be rational and welcoming.” 

That was too grim for Maple at this hour of the morning. Impa said nothing. She expected the girl to be put off, but instead she lowered her broom to the ground and started jogging to keep up with Ghirahim. He slowed down for her. 

No one had asked, but Maple felt she had to say it. Perhaps it was for her own good. “I thought the charms we planted by the bay would protect my father.”

Ghirahim felt two ways about this. Neither of these feelings were pity or empathy- her father was a soldier or something and he died in the war. That was his job. He couldn’t give a damn about it. Instead, the first feeling was being impressed; that she was able to be so self-aware, so quickly. It may have been grief talking, but it was still astute. The second feeling was one of surprise at himself. He was rather starting to like this girl and was starting to see why his master was so quick to trust her. He made a mental note against himself-  _ protect him _ . If anyone was going to wound a man, it was a woman he trusted. He longed for Gannon to grow and know much of these things on his own. Ghirahim hated being the adult.

Where the fence broke there was a gate barricaded with locks and chains and heafty logs. For the day, it was open. Impa dismounted. Gannon slid off the horse into her arms. She set his webbed Zora feet on the ground and unbundled him from the sheets. She draped it over the horse. He stood in the grass like a gnome, awkwardly posed and unnerved. Ghirahim took him by the hand and Maple followed close behind. Impa took the reins and led the horse inside. 

A young woman came out of the stables to greet them. She had two pails of milk in her hands, but nothing about her to suggest that she welcomed them. “Pa! We got wanderers!” 

“They soldiers?!”

“Nah!”

An old man with a grumpier disposition than his daughter burst through a door on the side of a house. He scowled at them. In a sudden change of tone, he glanced behind them, scurried out of the house, and nudged his daughter to be a bit more pleased to exist. She didn’t. Impa met up with Ghirahim and the children. 

“Good to see you, Talon.” Impa nodded politely. “We’re only here for breakfast and a little rest, then we’ll be on our way and out of your hair.” 

“You could be out of our hair now,” the daughter snapped, “if you want to be so kind.”

Talon turned several shades of red. He patted his daughter’s back and wheezed a weak laugh. He gently shoved her toward the barn. “It’s just. Stress. Stress! Yes. Getting to everyone. Pay her no mind, please. She doesn’t know what she says, your ladyship.”

“What’s’a’matter, Pa?” she sneered. He panicked to shove her into the stables, but she was considerably stronger than she looked. “Afraid they’re gonna charge us for treason, too? They gonna send another messenger after us?”

“We could just claim your farm as property of the crown and force you out of it, if you would prefer.” Ghirahim shrugged. Maple cast him a worrisome glance. Gannon started to wake up. “Or you could feed the children, and there will be no more word about it.” 

“We do not threaten them.” Impa spoke sternly, but she was looking at her gloves. They were starting to wear out. Maybe it was time for another pair. “It just leads to more paperwork.”

Ghirahim tilted his head in agreement. The woman scowled deeply and handed her father the buckets of milk and head into the house. He kept up an excessive, uneasy smile. “She’s just… on edge. We’ve all lost much. She worries for someone, too. Uh, come inside. We’ll get the table set for you.”

“Can I look at the horses?” Maple asked, but she asked Impa and Ghirahim, not Talon. Ghirahim shrugged. Impa nodded. Talon gestured down to the pasture up ahead. She peeled from Ghirahim’s side and ran off, broom on her back, and jumped onto the fence to see them better. 

“Right. This way.” Talon bowed again, or at least what he hoped was a proper bow, and seated the others inside. Talon took Impa’s horse to feed. Breakfast was served before Gannon could fall asleep at the table. Maple came along as soon as her stomach growled, and the four of them sat in silence. 

Malon watched them from the kitchen with spite and malice. It was while she was sneering at them from a distance that she saw it. From Gannon’s pocket came Zeel. The fairy ate up the burnt edges of bread and bacon; the eggshells from the softboiled eggs. Gannon was trying to sneak them under the table, but from where she stood she could see beside him. She turned back into the kitchen. 

Malon came out of the kitchen with a pitcher of water. In her other hand was a tiny dish of chicken bones. She set it on the table next to Eko-Gannon. The guests froze. She refilled their glasses with water. She stood at the end of the table. 

“So. You’re him.” Malon spoke clearly. Gannon looked at his plate, and then nodded. Silence settled on the table like spilled salt. 

Impa was the first to continue eating. “We’ll be on our way soon enough.”

Malon just stood there. Eventually she made a decision. She set the pitcher down on the table and sat next to Impa. She fiddled her thumbs on the table. They were anxious, not sheepish. “Is… Is he okay?”

Impa didn’t look back at her. “I haven’t seen him in a long time. If you’re worried, perhaps you should make an effort to send him a letter. I’m sure he’d appreciate hearing from you.” 

Malon had nothing left to say. She left the pitcher behind and returned to the stables. When they had finished their breakfast, Maple picked up the plates out of habit. Impa helped her wash them. Gannon held Zeel in his hands, slowly feeding him the last of the bones. 

“Are you alright, sire?” Ghirahim whispered. 

Gannon nodded. “She didn’t really care who I was. She only cared about the Hero.”

Ghirahim took a breath. “That is often how it goes. They either have a vendetta, or don’t care at all. Negative or nothing.”

Gannon looked at him with a sullen, bitter expression. “I didn’t do anything to her.”

“Mortals only connect others to themselves through their hurts or their pleasures. Sadly, they care more about how they have been hurt, no matter how indirectly, than for the hurt of others. Ungreatful bastards.” 

“Don’t swear.” Gannon replied. It caught the jester off guard. “Well, I guess around me it’s okay. But we shouldn’t swear around them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and why not?”

“Papa says that no matter how you look at it, we’re either children, and shouldn’t swear around adults, or we are ancient spirits, and shouldn’t swear around the mortal children.” Gannon cracked a smile. 

“That’s a logical fallacy.” Ghirahim was more bemused than critical. “Either you are mortal, and therefore a child, or immortal, and do not need to follow mortal rules. There’s no  _ both. _ ”

Gannon looked at his right hand, where the mark claimed him. There was no seeing it under his Zora scales. “ _ I _ think we’re both. I just… need to better understand it so I can explain to Papa how it’s stupid.”

“Did he prevent you from using it?” Ghirahim leaned in. It was the same tone as when an adult asks if someone has hurt a child. Gannon shook his head. It didn’t soothe Ghirahim’s fears. “Yet you fear it.”

Gannon didn’t know how to express his thoughts. He watched the light flicker around Zeel while he consumed the bones. “I think… I think he’s angry.”

This struck Ghirahim as obvious. He said nothing. 

“Angry at me, not  _ me _ me, just… who I am,” Gannon found himself start to choke up. This wasn’t what he expected from himself and it caught him off guard. “And I think he hates himself, too.”

_ That _ surprised the jester. “What makes you think that?”

“He doesn’t like using it. And when he does, he always looks so sad, after.” Gannon came across the perfect analogy. “It’s like when we kill a fish. We had to do it because we need to eat, but we’re sad that the fish had to die. That’s what he looks like.”

Zeel beltched. “Don’t take it to heart, kid. Listen, how about when we get to the castle, we start practicing at night when folks aren’t looking. I can help. Maple and your sword here can keep watch, and you’ll be the bestest, strongest, cleverest Gannon there’s ever been, yeah?”

Gannon smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Impa and Ghirahim got on the horse. Maple and Gannon got on the broom. They didn’t say goodbye to Talon and Malon. They only rode to the castle as fast the horse could go. The kids talked over the wind the whole way. Impa and Ghirahim spoke volumes with silence. By the time they reached the castle, Impa and Ghirahim found themselves weirdly on the same page. 

Things were different this time around. For everyone.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Phila gently cupped Loamol’s hands in her own. They waited in the southern watchtower of the castle while the palace guards spoke with another servant. The supervisor of the division sat at his desk, writing down Loamol’s account of the night before into the logs. The gerudo sat with her eyes fixed on the floor. As far as she could figure, she had done this as best as she could manage. 

The guard emerged from the other room. He passed a piece of paper to his supervisor, who started to scan it for contradictions in Loamol’s narrative. They whispered between themselves. 

“Thank you for coming with me.” Loamol gave her warmest smile to Phila. “I know you do it out of duty but… 

“Easy now,” her smile was uneasy, but she did mean it. She didn’t know Loamol too well, no one did, but the woman had done nothing but her fair share since she had come. The woman had been polite, kept to herself and her work, and until last night hadn’t been a lick of trouble. Most of Phila’s worries were the man who came; it sounded like he would be back. “If you’re worried about the bit of magic, we can deal with it. This castle has had it’s fair share of quirky folks these past twenty years, you know.”

“So I heard.” Loamol gave a chuckle. Her heart sank anyway. She wasn’t sure if the Temple had woken this up in her, or if it had only made her aware of what was already hers. That at least they could either contain or control. What was worse was Jokoh. There was no doubt in her mind it was his- he had her reserved for himself around that time. She had spent the decent profits she had made from those reservations to escape the city. She had hoped that her time in the Lost Woods would have left Jokoh behind her. 

The supervisor got up from his desk. He walked around it and sat next to Loamol on the bench. He was so small by her side. “Well, three other servants’ accounts of the events line up with yours fairly well, which is good.”

Loamol looked at the paperwork on his hands. “But?”

“Well, the ice is fine, but we can’t have you setting things on fire. Not good for the laundry.” He tried to joke, but it came across deadpan. “We are moving you into quarrentine until the Magi can come up with a way to tame your hair.”

Loamol nodded. Okay, that she could live with. It would be unpleasant, but some control over the ability would be ideal. Phila leaned over to look the guard in the eye past Loamol. “What about … the gentleman?”

“If Jokoh is the father,” the guard waved his hand. He didn’t want to say it, “then he has every right to claim the child. Thankfully, she is not a charged criminal. Her status is more like a refugee, or a victim of a crime. He cannot simply take the child without her permission. He can, however, demand to see the child and have temporary custody. Visitation and all that.”

Loamol nodded. Her soul hung the on the word  _ if _ . Any shred of doubt would have been appreciated, but she didn’t have one. She thought back over the documents she and Link had signed. She didn’t remember anything that would take away Jokoh’s rights. Now she couldn’t even ask him. 

“Of course,” the guard tilted his head to help his thoughts shift together, “your son is also under the Living Collateral clause, which means by law he cannot be removed from the premesis unless through proper channels of the contract. Well, once we find him, anyway. I’m sure it won’t be long. That would mean that the man who claims to be his father would be only able to visit him here, on the grounds, where everyone would be able to keep an eye on them.”

The women raised an eyebrow. That did a great deal to soothe Loamol. “Who wrote this contract, exactly?”

“The Princess, of course.” The guard smirked. There was a twinkle of pride in his eyes. “She’s a firecracker, that one. I don’t know what sort of world she’ll be inheriting, but she’s doing all she can to be well prepared to rule it.”

Loamol sat on the bench, calm and quiet. The supervisor got back to his desk. He gave some commands to the guards to escort Loamol. Phila was asked to return to her duties, but given invitation to check on Loamol as she saw fit. Phila saw fit to check on Loamol for the entirety of the trip to the medical wing. 

Quarrentine was exactly as Loamol feared- it was solitary confinement. It was made up as a medical room, with a comfortable bed and some reading matierals, but the only window was on the door. It was a one-way glass for the nurses to look in without risk of contamination of the quarrentined to look out. 

“Don’t worry, dearheart.” Phila soothed from a growing distance. “There Magi here are the best there is. You’ll be back with us soon.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Link awoke to a hand shaking the fur around his shoulder. It was a familiar gesture. He feigned sleep, but it didn’t work. He was awake and his waker knew it. The hand patted his shoulder. Link rolled to his feet. He stood on his four paws, feeling considerably better, and shook himself out. His fur felt flat on one side, and the shaking was only floofing it out so much. He scratched his ear with his hind foot and found it a surprisingly satisfying experience. He blinked himself awake and looked up. 

King Zobolph stood in his morning bathrobe, his autumnal longjohns tucked into his slippers. Link could still smell the milk faintly embedded into them. That brought back memories. Even better, they were good ones. He felt himself ease a little. 

“Come, walk with me.” 

Link tucked himself along the King’s shins. He almost stood as tall as the man’s waist. The king ruffled the fur on the top of Link’s head. It was no different from when the same man would ruffle Link’s hair as a boy. Back then Link hated that growing up, but it didn’t bother him now. Granted, it was a lot easier to get fur to sit right than hair. 

Zobolph had to hold open the door for Link, who walked through and sat on the other side until the King passed. He watched the guard’s faces as the King walked with a beast. Link found that they had no particular expression through practice. As far as they were concerned, the King always had a dog. He gave credit where credit was due. The King was not always an easy man to keep up with. 

“You gave us quite the scare, boy,” he said. “Running off like that. We were terrified that something had happened to you.” 

Link was taken aback. What conversation were they having? Well, perhaps it wasn’t a conversation. No chat with the King was properly a conversation. There was talking, and there was listening, and that was pretty much it. Link was sometimes even good at the listening bit, if he could keep his mind from wandering. Right now his mind was pacing around what could possibly have happened to him. Death didn’t stick, and everything else was just a nuisance. 

“Your mother and I were afraid you had fallen through to another realm.” The king explained. Link focused on not walking ahead. What? His mother was  _ dead _ , had been dead for ages, and not even Zelda could talk to the dead- “Some of your incarnations have had a talent for that, as I’m sure you remember. A couple didn’t exactly come back. Zelda didn’t show us your letters right away; and I’m glad you did write, but I still wish you had written to let  _ us _ know that you were okay.”

Link felt a sinking in his chest. The King and Queen were Zelda’s parents. They had always been  _ strictly _ Zelda’s parents, because the implications otherwise were a mess. Granted, he answered to them, and he obeyed them (sometimes) and he ate at their table but- 

“And don’t get me started on how you’re trying to do all of this on your lonesome.” The King was scolding him now. Though it was obvious  _ what for _ , to Link it wasn’t obvious  _ why _ . “You may be a master at sneaking cats into your room, or raising plants that  _ honestly if you thought you could hide those you couldn’t smell them _ , but that doesn’t mean you can handle a child, on your own, when you can barely get yourself up for breakfast.” 

Link felt rather stupid. He was used to this on most occasions, granted. The lectures that Link had absorbed at the King’s side had never been this familiar. They were about law, authority, responsibility, not leaving one’s socks on the fences outside, other things that a member of the household  _ must _ abide by if they are to stay. They were conditions, they were warnings. They were guidance that felt like they were trimmed and stretched to him, as a last resort. This was none of those things. It was holding up a mirror and staring through the looking glass, realizing that he’d been on the weird side the whole time.

King Zobolph was quiet for a moment. Link had no idea where this was going and the pause worried him. When the finally spoke, Link realized he had been right to be. “I know you and Zelda aren’t exactly… on best terms right now. No one expects you to be, but do try to be patient with her. She is doing her best in uncertain waters.”

Link was greatful that he couldn’t answer. He had no interest in stoking the expectation between him and Zelda. The conversation on it made him feel bitter, and he hadn’t exactly pegged why. He had been a bit pre-occupied with preparing for an inevitable war growing up, and now that it was here, he was pre-occupied with trying to undermine it. The only trouble with Link being non-vocal was that those who knew him were quite used to it, and had developed a talent for reading him. The king was doing this now. 

“I’m not saying you have to pretend to be a perfect couple,” the king went on. Link rather wished he wouldn’t. The king knew this, and so took a small amount of guilty pleasure in continuing anyway, “but you two do need to sit down and just talk to one another. Properly. What comes of it is what it is, but you cannot keep avoiding the subject for another twelve years.”

_ Try me _ . Link thought. 

“You’ll be staying by my side until we sort out this whole furry business.” The King opened another door to the dining hall. The smell of breakfast overcame Link’s senses. “I’ll need you to behave for once. If we’re clever, we can use this whole thing to set it all to rights before your boy comes home.”

It took Link a minute to think through the whole thing. He found himself laying at the king’s feet at the dining room table. He snapped up the breakfest the King fed him. Zelda gave him all of her stringbeans, as she had always done. The queen scolded her for it, as she had always done. 

Link’s seat was empty. It had been for years. Beside his seat, which had never known anyone to sit in it, had a box. In it was a stack of paperwork, filled with dotted i’s and crossed t’s. Link knew it was, because he had spent the last three days making sure. Link came out from under the table so he could peer at the surface. His place was set, waiting for him. The place was set next to him, too, with significantly smaller cutlery. 

If he wasn’t colourblind, he would have known that the placesets were green and red, respectively. He went back under the table and started to cry anyway. This did not stop him from eating all the bacon and stringbeans, however. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	21. Evening

The council sat around the table with a great murmur. So far, the plan was a disaster. In their benefit, Link was more or less removed as a Wild Card. He was on a shorter leash than ever. He had spent the entire day literally at the King’s feet. The downside was that everyone knew about it. The servants had spared no detail in how obediant Link was, and how they should have done this years ago. There was no wondering where he was hiding, what he was up to, or whether or not he had set traps in the halls. He had been at the king’s feet all day, getting belly rubs and jerkey to his heart’s content. 

“This does not bring us any closer to the triforce itself.” One of the councilmen argued. “If anything, we have made it harder to obtain with him under such close watch.”

“Fear not,” the one who had attacked Link was rather relaxed. “Had we taken his piece first, the other two would have gone onto the offensive. No, it is best to keep him out of the way- even if it means out of reach. We leave him for last. When we finally come for him, he will surrender of his own accord.”

“Link.” One of the councilmen steepled his fingers in disblief. 

“Yes.”

“ _ Surrender. _ ”

“If we have the… other pieces in place, then yes.” The councilman was careful not to perform gestures of stress. It was important to be patient. They did not see what he did. It was too soon to kiss and tell. “Allow me to handle this situation. If I am alone in my actions it will be easier to dismiss. Neither we nor the Family want there to be any fracture in the Capitol’s strength.”

“Well, no, of course not.”

“Nevri,” the-one-who-made-Link-a-wolf gestured to one who was rather quiet. “I would like you to assist the Princess in anyway you can. If we are to protect Hyrule, her prowess will be a boon. She has already shown promise. Perhaps she has some ideas on how to disrupt enemy influence near our villages.”

Nevri nodded. That was a task he was comfortable with. He was on board with the plan as a whole, but the  _ nature _ of the plan was easily given nefarious lighting. He was a man who was chosen for the council for his gentle nature. While he did love to argue, his plan was usually to argue for the case of less extreeme measures. In this room it was usually a lost cause. The effort was always appreciated, however. “Do you have any reccomendations on how to do that?”

“Let the Princess finish her thoughts.” 

It was good advice. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

This was not a formal court hearing. There would be one, but not tonight. The councilman in question stood with two guards. They were just as much to protect him as they were to detain him for questioning. The two guards were visibly nervous about the job. The councilman was not. Instead, the councilman was nervous about the Royal Family. 

Link laid down beside the king’s throne, his head up and his ears sharp. The king had his hand on the wolf’s head, absent-mindedly petting it. The queen sat in her chair, and Zelda stood beside her. Zelda was holding pink scissors. She had a perfectly plain expression on her face, so the Councilman assumed she was absolutely furious. Precious. 

“Ezal,” the king announced the name as much as addressing him. The accoustics carried his voice to the back of the room. “Though this is a distressing matter, we would prefer it not to be a cascading one. Are you willing and able to speak the truth, while it is freely available to you?”

“I am, your majesty.” The councilman replied. “I am greatful for this opportunity.”

King Zobolph gestured to the guard, and they brought in the wooden box. It was passed to the Queen, who then opened it for inspection. She acknowledged Ezal with a nod. “We know you only fear for Hyrule’s safety, but thankfully due to diligence and order, your actions have not interefered.”

Ezal did not know what was in the box. He did not know what he had failed to interefere with. Now while everyone knew that Link was a wolf, and that he was involved, no one had actually claimed that he had  _ done _ it. 

“We took the liberty of searching your possessions, to find a colletion of Hylian history of interest. Thanks to your love of it, we can be assured that you knew the Crystal of Twili would not cause lasting harm to him.”

“Instead,” the king continued, “it would only prevent him from finishing the adoption records. It was a clever stroke, I will acknowledge your wisdom in this. We know you would not lift a hand against a Bearer, truly.”

The councilman was feeling a sweat coming on. From what he could see of the papers in her hand, the boldest letters in the heading read  _ Legal Guardianship _ . He looked to Link. The wolf had not moved. He couldn’t be serious.  _ Hiding  _ the child was enough- protecting him in his younger years to be turned over later. That would have absolved him of any guilt of slaying a child, but also not interfered with the  _ proper course _ . This… this was madness. 

“However, being that the paperwork is properly completed, there is minimal harm done.” Quen Osiel returned the papers to the box and passed the box to Zelda. “There is only the matter of returning Link to his proper state, which you will assist the Magi in doing so. They have several tasks of import on their hands and they need all the help they can get. You will be supervised, in case violence should take you again, by the North Tower Captain. Is that understood?”

“Yes, your majesty.”  _ Wait, what was happening? _

“I know these are… uneasy times for all of us.” King Zobolph wore his genuine concern on his face like warpaint. “Right now, our enemies are at our gates. Not within our homes. You would do well to remember that.”

Councilman Ezal was escorted to the northern watchtower to meet with the captain there. His head swam. This wasn’t an informal trial, it was a sweeping under the rug. This took care of any hostility that the council may have faced, and this definitely served as retrobution for what happened to  _ Link _ , but the narrative was still wrong. He had said that Link attacked him. Was he to get away with it? Was the abandoning of the prisoner bracelet swept under the rug too, or was Ezal at fault for that also? This wasn’t peacekeeping, or justice. It was favourtism for the boy. It was setting him up for a loophole, an easy victory to turn him loose again. The councilman started to boil. This was only going to prove the council right, he decided. 

The Triforce in Hyrule would fall.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The sun was setting behind the Goron mountains. The four of them were pushing through the home stretch before darkness settled into Hyrule Field. Ghirahim was asleep in the sword. Impa carried him on her back while she rode. Eko-Gannon clung to Maple’s broom so tight he thought his scales would pop. She was trying to beat the night, but also not outpace the horse, and it made her jolt and bolt between speed and hovering. Impa’s horse was giving all it could. Impa decided to name it- eventually. 

“Maple,” she shouted up into the wind, “We’re not going through the front gate. Too much commotion, too much crowding. We’re going around the back. Come low and flank.”

Not all of this made it to Maple, so she came down to hear Impa better. That was good enough. Impa only repeated to stay close and follow her to another way in. Maple nodded. Gannon had half a mind to jump from the broom onto the horse (lest he lose his lunch) but jumping from one moving thing to another was more than his nerves could take. Instead, he buried his face in Maple’s back. He got hair in his mouth, which he was used to anyway. 

They skirted around the wall. Behind them the horns trumpeted from the drawbridge. It was the first call, for anyone to pass through and for the guards to prepare for the night. They had made good time, indeed. Impa soothed her horse.  _ Just a little further. _

Impa sat tall on her horse as they crossed the moat to the side entrance. The guards on the wall scrambled to open it for her. She crossed the narrow drawbridge and before the hooves were fully on the dirt the guards were pulling it up. The gate sealed behind her. Maple dragged her shoes against the dust. They skid to a stop. Eko-Gannon stumbled off the broom but managed to keep his footing this time. Maple patted him on the back.

“See, I told you it gets easier.” Maple was chuckling, but Gannon was not. “What? I fly perfectly fine, you’re just sensitive.”

Impa dismounted and passed the reins to the stablehand. “Be good to him. He’s had a hard day.” 

The stablehand looked at the dust and debris that coated the horse’s legs, the panting of the chest, and the overall glaze in its eyes. The stablehand shook his head at Impa. He led the poor beast to the stables where he could baby it back to sanity. 

“No time to stop.” Impa turned to the kids. “We have to get to the inner chambers of the castle, quickly, and have arrangements made. The sooner we have this in writing, the better.”

Maple took Gannon’s hand and they slipped into Impa’s growing shadow. Impa took Maple’s other hand and swept them through the castle grounds. Ghirahim was getting heavy, which Impa figured meant that he would be waking soon. She wondered if the Master Sword ever got heavy like this. 

_ Not anymore _ . She felt it through her nerves. It was his voice, immaterial.  _ She is asleep, permanently. _

“Why?” Impa saw Maple look at her oddly for suddenly speaking, but Gannon had no such surprise. His eyes were on the castle. 

_ Reasons. _ She could feel Ghirahim shrug.  _ I wasn’t there. _

Impa accepted that it was the end of the conversation. Mentally, she filed it away under Questions for Link, under the subsection I May Never Get an Answer. It was a growing collection. It was still smaller than the Questions for Zelda, subsection a Great Deal was Spoken but Nothing Said. She found herself catching a glance of Gannon out of the corner of her eye. He had a lot on his mind. Impa kept an eye out for spiralling. To her relief, Maple was watching for them, too. She held his hand tight and led the boy with confident footsteps. It was helping. 

They marched through the servant’s wing. Impa called for custody papers to be brought to the study. She’d be able to finish them there. She pressed her way past questioning servants and guards welcoming her back. She knew what time it was, and she knew where her King and Queen would be. 

Impa opened the dining room doors to the supper set at the table. The council sat with them, passing potatoes and turkey. There were a few empty chairs in the center. She stood in the doorway taking in the din and the chatter. Something under the table stirred. Eyes stared out from an array of feet. It stole out from under the table and leaped at them. 

Ghirahim pulled himself together and drew his foil. He stood between the beast and the children. The jester whipped his foil across its belly and the beast crumpled on the floor. Maple tucked Gannon behind her. The Royal family stood, and the council followed their lead. Nothing was said. Ghirahim cleaned his blade on Impa’s clothes and sheathed it. Everyone stared at him with a violence. He hated this place. 

Under the beast, lights bounced of the carpet. Ghirahim backed up. Confusion ran through Impa. Zelda rushed to the beast’s side as the lights gathered. As they always do, the lights pulled into a sphere, then a boy, then a dog. As the lights started to pull Link together a black stone cast a shadow from the light’s center. In the black stone was the blue light, and the shadows splintered like pine needles over the lights. Link as he knew himself lost his form. The lights scrambled and in a panic, reformed into the dog, faded in the details, and dropped. Wolf Link hit the carpet with a grunt. He got back onto his paws. He sneezed. 

“Are you alright?!” Zelda whispered it, hissed it, and it sounded stupid. She stood up. “Who the hell are you? What’s the meaning of this?”

Eko-Gannon interrupted any answer. He ran to Link and wrapped his arms around his fluffy neck. Link did his best to wrap a leg around Gannon’s shoulders. He didn’t let Gannon go, even after Zeel plucked himself free.

“Okay,” Maple stepped forward from behind Ghirahim. She curtied as deep as she could manage. “I’m Maple, Syrup’s Granddaughter. She’s a witch from the Great Bay and so am I. That’s Gannon, but he looks like a Zora so no one picks on him, and we kinda got adopted by the Zora Royal Family yesturday? It’s a little unclear. And that’s Ghirahim. He’s a sword but he’s also a sworn sword and he runs really fast.” 

Zelda blinked. “Well, Impa, it’s good to see you again.”

Impa knelt to the ground and greeted both Zelda and her parents. She acknlowedged the council. Ghirahim did no such thing, until Gannon threw him a glare. Link laid down on the carpet and nudged Gannon beside him. Gannon happily climbed up on his back. Ghirahim had seen enough, and returned to Impa’s back. The members of the council settled immediately into acceptance. 

“Come back to the table, dear.” Queen Osiel nodded to the council and her husband. Everyone took their seats. “Impa, Gannon, we have places for you at the table. Maple, for now take Link’s seat.”

Link carried Gannon to his new place, and Impa pulled out Maple’s chair so she could sit at the table. Food was passed to them, and Impa took charge of the portions. Zeel sat on the table. Zelda stared at the fairy in disbelief. She picked the bones off her plate and set them on a side dish for him. The council watched the boy eat with great discomfort. He was just as messy as his adoptive father. Once the children were settled, Impa took her place. 

“It seems you have had an adventure of your own, Impa.” The king laughed, “what is on your mind?” 

“I am taking the two children into my custody for the time being.” Impa announced. The council had no commentary. “Until other arrangements can be made, I will be assuming responsibility for them.”

She didn’t need to say anything else. The king and queen nodded. Link curled in on himself. They knew Syrup, and while she had never been outright abusive, they knew she was not an ideal caretaker. Link had some faint scars still to prove it. Zelda surpressed her excitement-  _ a witch by the bay _ . She had been on the money. She saw the looks on her parent’s faces. They had conviently never told Zelda where Link had been before his adventure, or why his surname was Sink, or why he never really cared for his family. He had only let it slip that he (sort-of) had a brother, and had no intention of going back unless he absolutely had to. Zelda told herself that she wouldn’t pry. It was a lie, but she could hold off a little longer. 

The dinner table was quiet after that. Conversations started, but fell into hush. The only ones able to properly speak were Gannon and Maple. They talked to one another under their breath, between mouthfuls of food, almost immune to the room’s weight. Gannon had lived five years under the will of a Temple that liked quiet, and he could deal with a dinner table with the same tone. Maple only wanted to ignore that she had left her grandmother’s house forever, just a little while longer. 

Link listened to his son’s voice until he fell asleep. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 


	22. Not the Same

It was no surprise to anyone that Maple and Gannon were exhausted. Maple made a concerted effort to be excited for dessert, but fell asleep before it made it to the table. Gannon was fading in and out. A room was made up for Maple near Impa’s quarters. It wasn’t as purple as the one in the Zora palace, but it also had more furniture and accomodations. Maple wouldn’t notice until morning. 

Gannon fought sleep. He picked at his potatoes, hoping that eating the spiced wedges would give him the strength to keep his eyes open. Deciding where to put him was a bigger deal. The council wanted him near one of the Guard Towers,  _ just in case _ . Zelda wanted him close to her own room, so that she could be more involved (which surprised everyone at the table, including Link). Everyone assumed (correctly) that Link wanted the same, so that Gannon would be placed either near the barracks, or Link’s old room. Being that the barracks were already close to the Servant’s wing, where his mother was, it was eventually decided that one of the utility rooms just outside the wing would be remade into Gannon’s bedroom. With the barracks nearby, the council was satisfied. Until that was done, Gannon could stay with his mother. Patrols would be increased in the wing for now. 

Gannon was happy to be staying with his mother again. He sleepily followed the guards, but when they opened the door she wasn’t there. Already tired, homesick, and alltogether uneasy, he lost his temper. He turned to the guards and with a snarling scowl he yelled, “What did you do with her?!”

The guards had two experiences. The first was anxiety. With the disguise they could not see the mark on his hand, but they knew it was there. They remembered when they were cowering in the tower, cornered by the undead, while a fully realized Gannon ruled the Hyrule Castle. The second experience was pity, because this was not the first time they had an overtired child lose their composure at them. They used the second as a balm to soothe the first. One got on one knee so they could look the child in the eyes. 

“She’s not feeling well,” they explained. “She’s with the doctors who are trying to help. The magi are working on a way to help her, so she can go back to living her life normally.” 

Gannon narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

The guard nodded. There, in this moment, was a brief window of clarity and empathy. “I guess you have no reason to trust us, hm?”

The boy did not expect to be spoken to so clearly. He folded his arms instead of answering. He wore suspicion like a mask. 

“The medical wing is a bit far from here.” The guard explained. “I don’t know if you can make the walk right now. You need to rest. You’ve had a long day and a big meal. How about first thing in the morning, I’ll take you to see her myself.”

“No.” Gannon barked. Zeel awoke from his food coma. He floated out of Gannon’s pocket. “I want to see her now.”

Zeel looked about the room. It was plain, but the bed was surprisingly tall. It was barely long enough for Loamol to sleep on, but it definitely beat the home-made mats and hammoks that they would fuss with back in the glade.

“Miss her a lot, huh?” 

Gannon nodded. 

“Alright.” The guard put out his arms. Gannon stared at them. Zeel nudged him on. Gannon reached back and the gaurd picked him up in his arms. He had to adjust how Gannon sat on his arm. Gannon felt weird. He knew that this was…  _ off _ , being carried by a Hylian guard. Still, he found himself resting his head on the guard’s shoulder. The guard passed along the message to other guards where he and his partner were going. Those guards passed it onto the tower. The guard was right- it was a long walk. Gannon was asleep before they made it to the Medical Wing. 

 

Loamol was rereading a newspaper from last week. Boredom alone was murder. She found herself actually missing chores. At least they passed the time. She draped her arm over her eyes. The bright light was no help. They hadn’t completely abandoned her in there, which was kind. They came in every hour, on the hour to ensure she was doing alright. They would talk to her for a few minutes. They asked her questions about the incident, what she thought provoked it, and anything she could mention to help the magi figure the situation. Sadly, she knew little about what was happening. She didn’t know about Twinrova, except by name as a corrupted pair of witches. She told them about the Temple, and relayed its nightmarish events as best she could, but it was just as much delerium to the medics as it was to Loamol. They gave her meals, snuck her some snacks, and encouraged her patience. 

When they came in late, long after the sun had set, she wondered if something was wrong. They were anxious. Their brows were knitted with false smiles that were designed for the benefit of the patients. Loamol sat up in her bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, there isn’t much progress but…” The nurse tapped their charcoal pencil against the top of the clipboard. “Actually, um, I’ll just get out of the way.” 

Loamol was too lethargic from doing nothing to be reflexive. She saw the guard enter. Her own safety entered her mind. It was quickly dispelled. In his arms sat a small Gerudo boy. Zeel rested fast asleep in his hair. The guard gently placed Gannon in his mother’s lap. She cradled him with her entire being. In his sleep he recognized her touch, her smell, the feeling of her hair tickling his cheek. He snuggled in tight. She kissed his forehead. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I know you didn’t have to bring him.”

The guard didn’t have a response, not a social one. He replied as he knew how; reports. “Impa brought him in with a young girl from the Great Bay. He seems to have a burn on his ankle, so we bandaged it with aloe. He will be staying in your quarters until his are prepared for him. He… he has a permanent seat at the King’s Table, while he is under the Hero’s care. We will allow some time for adjustment, but the Family wants to start tutoring as soon as a schedule is made up for him. That is all.”

The guard bowed out of habit. Loamol bent in honour of a bow. She ran her hand through his hair. The nurse addressed the guard with polite, formal posture. “I believe it is in the health of them both, for the boy to stay in quarrentine with her tonight.”

The guard nodded with realization. “Yes, of course. I defer to your understanding.”

They closed the door gently. Loamol laid back in her bed and tucked Gannon under her arm. He drooled a bit. The bright light of the room dimmed so that it was softer than Zeel’s red hum. Loamol fell asleep quickly. For the first time in weeks, Gannon slept through the night.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ghirahim got up. Out of Impa’s window was the garden. Next to it slept the cemetary. He opened the window, slipped out to the grass and closed the stained glass behind him. The garden itself was an eerie place. Small lamps hung on posts. They illuminated a cobblestone walkway dotted with benches and blooming autumn flowers. Lattice arches held up sleeping vines up of summer climbers. Far down the cobbled path and out of the garden sat the first buildings of the barracks. Shelter doors leading to the basement of the castle dotted the servants’ wing. On the opposite side, near the cemetary, the Southern Guard tower loomed over the dead. Ghirahim thought it was an all-together poorly arranged space.

Guards were coming. He could hear them speak in hush tones, afraid to offend the night. Ghirahim walked ahead of them and through a storm door into the Castle’s depths. It led him exactly where he expected, the Wine Cellar. That was one thing he couldn’t spite the Hylians for- making good drinks. They had long ago figured out how to beat the Zora at mastering Things-With-Water-In and in celebration, they never let the art of brewery go. The jester walked through the isles of aged wines. Many of them were only a decade old, but he found precious few bottles that dated back. 

“I remember you.” He picked a bottle out of the rack. It had aged thirty years, but longing hands had picked up the bottle to admire it. There was no dust on its perfect seal. It was deja-vu, standing in the castle again, holding this same bottle of wine. “Do you remember me? We almost cracked you open that night. Not that the others would have appreciated you, really.”

A shuffle in the cellar broke him from his romance. He gently put the bottle back into its cradle. His hand fell on his foil. No, a fight would be more trouble than it was worth. He peered around the cases and the racks. A small servant (perhaps in training by a parent) hid behind the wall. When Ghirahim came into his view, he held out a most pathetic dagger in a shaking hand. 

“You-You-You’re not supposed to b-be down here.” The boy hissed. He had soft, red eyes and dark features, but the same pointed ears as the Hylians. Ghirahim raised an eyebrow. He was no servant by blood. “I’ve got a bell and I’ll ring it!”

“You should be better at sneaking by now, Shiekah.” Ghirahim smirked. “Slow on the curve, are we?”

The boy pursed his lips. “I broke my foot last month and I’m having a hard time walking on it, that’s all. I can still kick like a mule, though, so watch it.”

“You are welcome to kick my shins if you like.” Ghirahim shrugged. “But I am forged from stone- you’re more likely to break your foot again. Put down the stick. It’s an embarressment.”

“It’s a  _ knife _ .” The boy hissed. “I made it myself.” 

Ghirahim plucked it out of the boy’s hands. It had all the characteristics of being made poorly. The boy had tried too many ideas, broke too far from the tradition of forging to make a sturdy, reliable piece. His ideas weren’t bad, just undereducated. They didn’t have the skill or experience to weigh out how to impliment a peculiar idea soundly. It was like every other first knife. 

“Where are your mentors?” Ghirahim handed the metal stick of mistakes back to the boy. The boy put it away. “Hm? Did you think you’d sneak out while they slept?”

“The Sheikah don’t sleep.” The boy recited. “They only wait.” 

“Oh, is that what you’re doing? Waiting to get into trouble?”

“No, sir.” 

“A disobedient soldier is as useless as an enemy.” Ghirahim hissed. “If you cannot obey your mentors now, then you will not survive when your superiors send you out to war.”

The boy looked at his feet. Ah, the mortal reaction to mortality. It always surfaced young. Some recoiled, some rebelled, and others only hid their fears. This boy was struggling with acceptance. Ghirahim could hear it now.  _ I don’t want to die _ . A stupid statement, which both denied their very nature and their ultimate purpose. At least the boy wasn’t wasting his breath. He only stood there, quietly, knowing he was beat either way.

“You’re one of  _ them _ , aren’t you?” The boy lifted his head and looked Ghirahim in the eye. He may have been clumsy and naive, but at least he had a fire in him. “You’re here with the Boy.”

“I am.” Ghirahim straightened his posture. He bent down so that his face was level with the boy’s. The boy, naturally, took a step back. “Are you going to defend your castle?”

The boy shook his head. It made the boy angry. “They told us not to.”

“It doesn’t make sense to you, does it, boy?”

He shook his head. No. “It’s not my job to understand. Only to obey.”

Ghirahim laughed. It echoed through the wine bottles, not like sound, more like a spell with recoil. “Like you were supposed to obey your mentors and stay in bed for the night? Instead of sneaking into the wine cellar, pretending to be a Guard? You little ones always lie to yourselves to excuse your own behaviour.” 

“I left something down here, okay?” the boy snapped. “When I was helping with the dinner I dropped my marbles and thought I got them all but I missed some, so I came down to pick them up before the morning crew slipped on them. What’s your excuse?”

Ghirahim decided to play along. “I’m here because I remember being here. Years before you were born. The whelps at my feet were helping me arrange a dinner for the True King. Then the alarms sounded.”

“The knight had shown up, didn’t it?”

“That’s right.” 

“And then… he fought  _ Him _ .” How mortal it was to avoid saying a name. “But… even though he won, he failed somehow… and… that’s where we are now.”

“You’re right.” Ghirahim felt the diamonds switch about on his back. There was no sense in surpressing them. They flipped up his arms, the pearly white of his complexion shifting to a hardened black. “He gave all he had, the poor child. I remember the look on his face with every blow. Now,  _ you’re _ mortal.  _ You _ may understand him better than I. Maybe, as a child who has no regard for rules or standards, may understand that runt. Can you explain to me why he is now pretending to protect Gannon?”

The boy now realized he had bitten off far more than he could chew. Ghirahim’s eyes consumed his attention like a whale swallows the sea. The boy shook his head. He wanted to run. He couldn’t move.

“When you do something bad, when you  _ royally fuck up _ , what do you do? Hm, mortal? What do you do when you know you’ve screwed the pooch?”

The boy shook in his socks. 

“That’s right. You apologize. But it’s not enough, not when you’ve fucked up that bad. You have to atone for it. You have to clean the stables, do the dirty work, make amends, don’t you?”

The boy nodded, mostly because he thought he was going to die if he didn’t. 

“So maybe you can  _ guess _ , maybe you’ve heard something you weren’t supposed to when you weren’t where you were supposed to be.” Ghirahim’s tongue slapped against his teeth like a whip. “What does the Hero truly plan to do with my master? Hm?”

The boy had no response. This was mostly because he was absolutely mortified in a way that only mortals could be. Even if this hadn’t been a problem, the boy had never actually even  _ met _ LInk, not yet. There was no way this boy would know what sort of chaos sat in that cracked skull. Thirdly, and most importantly, it was well known and criticised that The Hero  _ didn’t make plans _ . In all his incarnations (or a couple of times, hers) the Hero was someone who did things in the order divined by coincidence or fate, like a tumbleweed on a World Tour. The idea of the Hero crafting a plan, much less a devious or vindictive one, was an entirely new concept. 

The boy, naturally then, just stood there. He shook, he quivered like a leaf that had somehow made it to winter. His knife was useless. His foot hurt. He still wasn’t completely sure he had found all of his marbles. Some of them may be lost forever. He was likely going to die here to this  _ creature _ , this demon of a thing, right here, right now. He would never have another pudding that was mostly chocolate, with vanilla swirled in. 

Ghirahim looked into the boy’s vacant face. The boy was broken. He sighed. He patted the boy’s head. “There has to be a reason, you know. Even the wild has rules. I’ll find out for myself. You should get to bed, before I change my mind.” 

The black diamonds flipped back to pearl. Ghirahim had long left the cellar before the child remembered to breathe. The Jester could feel his master’s heartbeat, slow and steady, elsewhere in the castle. He followed the pull through the halls, dodging guards and smiling terrifically at servants too weak to sound alarms. Ghirahim found his way to Loamol’s quarrentine. He bowed neatly to the nurse, who suddenly realized she had some paperwork to do. 

Gannon, in his mother’s arms, lay fast asleep. Zeel hummed over them, hard at work. Strands of Loamol’s hair glowed with frost, others with dying embers. Ghirahim found himself a chair in the room to sit in. He leaned against the back of it, closed his eyes, and shifted back. He was his King’s sword. A king should never be apart from it. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Zelda was not sleeping. Link was sprawled out on her bed, getting his fur in all the sheets. There was no room for her on it. This was not why she couldn’t sleep. Instead, her eyes poured over the books. Her eyes were sore from reading. There had to be an answer in here. Back then he had been able to shift freely, and it was only a matter of figuring out how. She reread a paragraph for the sixth time. She still didn’t know what it said. 

What she saw at dinner terrified her. Unlike most who had watched Link die and undie, she knew what she was looking at. In this lifetime they had grown up together. They had been in many arguments, more than enough trouble for any child, and furthermore, training for war. Zelda had killed Link more times than she could count. Sometimes it was because he had done something stupid and so he asked for a swift death. Sometimes it was because she was annoyed, and annoying him always made her feel better. Rarely, it was a genuine accident. She knew exactly the rhythm and patterns an undying Link should take. Watching him be forced back into a wolf while reconstructing made her stomach turn. She had to remove the crystal, but without removing the light trapped inside it. Each one was important. There was a moment,  _ she had caught it _ , where the crystal had broken but had not yet infected any of the other lights. It was the defense mechanism working, breaking down the infection, but unable to fight it off…

“It needs to be weaker.” She whispered. She flipped through more books. “If it’s weaker, he can fight it. And if he can fight it, then he can control it-”

She stood up fast enough that her chair toppled and hit the floor. Link awoke with a start. He jumped to his paws and dropped into a snarl. Once he realized it was only Zelda and a chair, his fur soothed flat. Her hair was all over the place. She held a book in one hand, but without marking a page. She was very close to an eye-twitch. Link melted off the bed and pressed his forehead against her hand. She ran her fingers through the fur. His fur was thick enough that she could hide her whole hand in it. 

“I guess we don’t have to worry about getting you a coat for winter.” Zelda scoffed. She dropped to a knee to speak to him face to face. “You okay?”

He nodded. His tail wagged a bit, invoulentarily. 

She put her forehead against his. His tail beat a little faster. “For all those nightmares you got, you rather like being a wolf, don’t you?”

_ Well, I miss having hands. _ He thought. Zelda stood up and turned away. She was refilling her quill. She crossed the room to her wall of cobbled-together maps of Hyrule. Thread and pins and notes and sketches almost coated the whole surface. She put Syrup’s house on the map by the bay. If Link could speak, he would be able to tell her that she put it a space or two north of where it actually was.

“Now that Impa’s back, your squad will finally move on from patrols.” Zelda began. She glazed over the villages on the map. She cast a glance at Link as he sat at her feet. “Granted you won’t be able to join them until you can carry a sword again-”

Link let out a whine in protest. 

“You can’t fight properly like that, Link.” Zelda rubbed between his ears. “Not to mention we can’t run tests if you’re rolling in mud halfway across Hyrule.”

_ I would not be rolling in mud, thank you. _ His ears flicked. He wasn’t entirely sure why.  _ I just… don’t want them to go.  _

“We won’t be sending them far.” Zelda muttered to the map. Her eyes weren’t lit, but she was still on the same page. Link had expected five years to change them, anticipating her to be a stranger. Instead she was the same Can’t Sleep If She’s Thinking, beautiful in the moonlight Zelda he had missed so terribly. “Besides, a day’s travel for them is a jaunt before breakfast for Epona, isn’t it?”

_ Touch hyperbolic, but yes. _

Zelda fell quiet. Her face fell through exhausted interest into weathered persistance. Link stood up and pressed his head against the side of her leg. She moved back a bit. “What?”

Link looked to the bed, and then to her.

“I’m not tired.”

_ I didn’t ask. _ He nudged her again.  _ Go to bed. _

Zelda snapped a glare. “There are more polite ways of asking a lady to bed.”

This rather caught Link off guard. His maw hung ajar. Some of his fur stood up. Link had a few thoughts- first that it was  _ not _ his intention. Right behind it was that he was currently a wolf, and while that was enough of a complication, he vaguely remembered that some animals had some  _ uncomfortable _ adaptations and- He blinked back the trainwreck. When he looked back to Zelda she had a look mixed between surprise and amusement.

“I knew it.” Zelda whispered. “You’re still shy.”

_ I’m not shy. _ He lied, but he believed it, so it didn’t show. Anyone would be shy in Link’s position. He spent a great deal of time under her father’s nose, reminded that shyness would keep him out of the dungeons.  _ You’re just inappropriate. _

Zelda yawned against her will. “Just because it’s late, and my body is tired, does not mean that I am tired, so I’m still right. But to keep you from whining I will go to bed.”

_ Acceptable. _

“There is fur in everything,” she grumbled. She scrunched up under the covers anyway. Link grabbed the corner of the blanket between his teeth and pulled it over her shoulders. He trotted about the walls, stood up on his hind legs and blew out the sconces. By the time he was done, Zelda was fast asleep. A deep part of him longed to curl up at the end of the bed. 

_ Better not. _ He told himself. It was hard to leave the room quietly, with his claws  _ tik tik _ ing over the floor, but Zelda didn’t wake. He nudged the door open with his nose. The guards nodded to him. They meant to be polite, but was a sore reminder of being stripped of his status. He sat down in front of the door. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. 

“Uh,” one guard leaned over a bit. “The kid was taken to be with his mother in the Medics’ wing.”

Link nodded.  _ Thanks.  _ He turned the corner. He found himself waiting around the bend. He listened. 

The guards waited to gossip. Nervously, the one who had given Link the tip shifted in his boots. Link wasn’t sure what he’d say, but his heart twisted at the possibilities. It started innocent enough. “Weird times we live in, huh?”

Link could hear the armour slide as the other guard shrugged. “I mean, you could pick any day of the year and you’d find weird times.”

“You know what I mean.” 

“What, with Retal leaving for the Postmen?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“I’m just worried he’s rushing into it.” The second guard leaned against the wall, which was against regulations. “He’s a good guard, and Zelda seems to like having him around.”

“Watch it.” The first strained their tone. “The wrong person will hear you, and make mountains out of molehills. I was talking about having... _ yanno _ , the kid. In the castle.”

“Why’s that weird?” The second straightened up. “He comes here once in a while anyway. Granted, it’s usually with an army at his back, but yanno. Not exactly opposed to skipping the whole Fight to the Death thing.”

There was a small silence. “Have you seen him?”

“No, but Jael said he was kinda cute.”

“ _ Cute? _ ”

“Yeah. Tealtio, remember him? Got moved to the South Tower a while back? Jael saw him carrying the kid. Fast asleep. Precious as anything. If it wasn’t for the red hair you’d think he’d be completely harmless.”

More silence. 

“What, you think he’s got Link under some kind of spell?”

The first hesitated. “I mean… it’s not entirely out of the question.”

They fell quiet. It was a permanent, thoughtful silence. Link turned tail and snuck off toward the medical wing. He fell asleep outside the door. He hadn’t felt this displaced since he first moved in. These nightmares were mundane ones; things conjured out of the common fears. At least memories were history- but true nightmares whispered about what the future might be. They were so much worse.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	23. Why Link Does Not Like Doctors

The sun baked the earth in the village. Cats hid in every shadow, every nook and cranny. The Gerudo, however, went on in the beautiful sunlight, sweating but unhindered. They pumped the water from the cliff-face. They irrigated their gardens, cooked up fluffy bread, and fired up large, metal plates for stir-fry. There was smoke and laughter. There were more people in the village, now that other Gerudo had found their way. Many of them had given birth and so the din of women sharing secrets snuck under the cover of crying daughters. 

What Mesol found comforting was that she was not the only one to arrive with sisters to look after. In the past week, another Eldest had arrived with a younger cousin. Like Mesol, she was defensive and protective and Mesol could see how crazy she looked from the outside. 

“It’s okay.” Mesol rest her hand on her chest in greeting. “I am Mesol. My sisters and I are the Cat’s Daughters.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” She rest her hand on her cousin’s shoulder, keeping the girl behind her. 

Mesol laughed, uneasy. “I guess not yet. Uh, we’re from Castletown. What about you?”

“We’re not  _ from _ anywhere.” She insisted. “We’re Gerudo. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”

“Actually we just held an Rememberance and-”

“Oh goddess, not that garbage again.” She turned her shoulders away. “Look, my name is Kessia, now leave us alone. And, to be nice? Don’t get comfortable.”

Mesol put her hands in her pockets. ‘Well, okay, but to be nice, Beedle comes every Wednesday. So… I guess plan accordingly.”

Kessia looked over her shoulder. She didn’t stop, and she didn’t respond to anyone else trying to say hello to her. Mesol had seen the look in her eyes, though. That had been enough. There was suprise and doubt all in one flash. Mesol kept her optimisim to herself. Her sisters were learning how to make noodles, today. She had a house to clean.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The best part about travelling was coming home, to one’s own bed. Impa, however, had never mentally taken herself off duty to enjoy a good night’s sleep. She spent hours in the study with paperwork, and then another hour and a half at the War Table. She caught up on skirmishes and battles accross Hyrule on the map. There had been many small incidents reported by the Postmen. Merchants reported camps when they could. Ghirahim was confident that the monsters knew what they were doing but Impa couldn’t see the pattern. Impa yawned and it almost hurt. She pulled up a chair so she could sit and still read the map. 

Impa awoke many hours later. 

“You must stop burning the candles at both ends like this.” Phila whispered gently. She set down the warm and bright breakfast on the war table. It was strictly against the rules to eat in the room, so obviously everyone did so without hesitation. Impa sat up in her chair. She had the worst taste in her mouth. “I swear the lot of your are going to be puddles of your former selves by the time any threat makes it to the castle. If you can’t take care of yourself you can’t take care of anyone else. There’s enough dust in this place without sweeping up the people.”

“Thank you.” Impa muttered it like a prayer. 

“I’m also to tell you that your custody for Maple has been approved,” Philia instinctively started cleaning up about the War Room, “but the request for Gannon has been denied. The mother has been evaluated as well and able to care for him, and has every right to remove custody from the father’s extended family.”

“Right, good.” 

“Your squadron is being prepped to meet with you, at your leisure. They are in the training yard, as per their request.” 

“I will freshen up and meet with them.” Impa said through a mouthful of food. Her brain was coming around. “I will be with them within the hour. Have them ready for briefing.”

Phila bowed. She took Impa’s empty plates. The second she left the room, she shouted orders in a sharp tone. Phila, like she had always done, kept the heart of the castle going. She never skipped a beat.

Refreshed, redressed and sharp as if she had slept the whole night, Impa marched across the barracks’ grounds. Salutes went up as she walked. There were hardy  _ welcome back _ s and cries of anticipated victory in her wake. More interestingly, Maple was following her. The small witch stared at the soldiers and the guards that intermingled, that nodded in greeting, that kept their questions to themselves. 

“I have a question for you, Maple.” Impa watched as Maple hustled to match the Sheikah’s gait. “If you are not ready yet, tell me.”

Maple nodded. “I can take anything you throw at me.”

Good answer. “Your father was a medic, correct?”

The wind quickly left Maple’s sails. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Would you be willing to learn?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Maple, it is not a command, only a question.” Impa spoke gently. It was a tone she had actually stolen from Link. She opened the door to the briefing room. Five young men were waiting at the table. She pulled out a chair for Maple to wait in. “Give it some thought.”

The squadron stood. Maple sat down. Impa marched to the front of the room and picked up the token pole. On the table lay a common map of Hyrule. Small blocks of painted wood scattered its surface. They saluted her, she saluted them, and then they bent over the table. Maple rest her head down on the surface and watched. 

“Report.”

“The people of the city are most concerned about the major trade routes.” Tamo stood as tall as he could in Tim’s shadow. “The city is assured that its protocols have provided sufficient protection. Theft is on the rise, assaults are down, and illegal sports have stabalized after the spike from Second Quarter.”

“Our greatest threats right now are against travelling persons.” Impa pushed a small token of wood across the map. “They serve as our strength of trade, but also our eyes. Especially as it is a public concern, I will be sending you out to build fencing on the roads.”

The squad blinked. Tim raised his hand, and when given permission to speak asked, “Are they...special fences?”

Impa nodded with a cunning grin. “We have developed the repellant into a wire, which when charged creates an unpleasant atmosphere for the monsters. You will be constructing four miles of this fencing leading from the castle as a test of its abilities.”

“You will be connecting them from the reserves of the central Castletown Gate, to the research outposts,  _ here _ and in the opposite direction,  _ here. _ At 1400, meet with the Research Division to learn how they want these fences put up. Any questions?”

“Are any of these components directly harmful to us?” To everyone’s surprise it was Ko who asked. “Or do we need any special equipment to handle them?”   
“Your standard issue gloves should be all you need before they are charged.” Impa leaned on her push-stick. “After they are charged, do not touch them. We have no conclusive data on how this new form reacts to Hylians- or any other race for that matter.”

They nodded. Great. Good to know. 

“Can I address the elephant in the room?” Ato raised his hand a bit. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Impa guarded her expression. ”He’s been through worse. The medical team is working diligently to restore him to his troublesome self.”

“Well, I guess that’s a relief.”

Impa knew better. When she left the barracks, Maple in tow, Impa prayed a prayer to Faore on Link’s behalf. Perhaps they would go easy on the poor man. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They did not go easy on the poor man. Link was currently rather weak, dizzy, and had a feening for chocolate cake which he was  _ stricktly forbidden from _ . This was from blood loss. Vials of Link’s blood sat in glass tubes on the counter. They had pricked him with enough needles for him to lose count. They had waxed part of his shoulder for two reasons; both to have folicles to test and also for easier pricking. They had taken molds of his teeth, shone bright lights in his eyes and thermometers in places Link would never admit.

Link had spent most of his life (er, lives) avoiding doctors because for the most part, he considered them pointless. It was  _ literally _ easier to die and come back then deal with them. Now that this was no longer an option, the Medical Ward had come up with a thousand reasons to hold him there. It was good to know  _ how _ this transformation served as a defense mechanism so they could replicate it. It was good to know how stones from the Twilight Realm influenced complex life. It was exhilierating to see the Triforce protect it’s bearer in such an irregular cercomstance. Researchers and Magi came and went freely, all a fluster like children for holidays. 

“Oof.” Link was greatful to hear her soft voice. Loamol stood in the doorway, Gannon in her arms. She was wearing a bronze-brown bandanna over her hair, with many, tiny stitchings of silver in. It looked cute on her, really. “I haven’t seen you that sour since you were poisoned.”

_ I feel poisoned. _ Link just laid on the table. He blinked, but it wasn’t as expressive as he liked. 

“Gannon, you mind waiting with the guards for a moment?” She set him down on the floor. The boy wasn’t too keen. “I just need to talk to your father a moment.” 

“I’m not little anymore.” Gannon protested. “I can handle it.”

Loamol paused. She glanced at Link, and then at her son. She got down on her knee to look him in the eye. “It’s not a matter of your being big enough, my King. It is only because I do not want to distress you. You have enough on your plate. Let us handle this for you. It won’t be a secret for long, I fear, either.”

Gannon considered it. He nodded. “I trust you.”

Gannon closed the door behind him so that Loamol could speak with Link privately. She stood back up. “I’m honestly surprised that got through to him.”

_ You and me both. _

“I hate to mention something like this when you are already having a rough time of it,” Loamol started. Link rested his head on his paws. She kneaded her hands together. “The night before last, his…  _ birthfather _ , I have no other word for it, made his intentions known to take the boy.” 

Link furrowed his brow. It looked rather menacing on a wolf’s face. 

“I do not know what the Temple awoke in me, but… this bandanna aims to surpress it.” Loamol gestured lightly to the top of her head. “I know you cannot answer me now, but I was hoping you knew more about it.”

There was a knock. Patience was still beyond him. “Can I come back in?”

Loamol opened the door for him. Gannon gripped the edge of the table and scrambled against the side to get on top. Link had to reach over and grab the back of the boy’s clothes with his teeth to pull him up. Link’s head swam from doing so. He laid back down on his paws. Gannon rest his head on Link’s furrier shoulder. 

“What are you doing in here?” One of the Magi came out from the back room. He held a vial of Link’s blood in one hand, and tiny shards of a Twili crystal in the other. The blood was churning on its own.

“Just leaving.” Loamol bowed, as a servant should. She extended her hand to Gannon. “Come on.”

“But I just got up here.” Gannon protested softly, more into Link’s fur than into the air. He dug his hand into the fur. Link didn’t want him to go, either. 

“Gannon.” 

Reluctantly, he slipped from his comfortable space at Link’s side and dropped down to the floor. Loamol took his hand. Loamol could only wish Link well with her expression. The magi shut the door behind them. Link could still hear Gannon protest as they went down the hall. “I just want to help.”

The magi pinched one of Link’s ears. Link reflexively pulled into a grimace. There was no look of concern, only frustration on the scholar’s face. “Honestly, your recklessness astounds me.”

Link looked to the vials of blood and jar of tiny stones on the counter. His stolen fur was wrapped up in a bandage to keep it flying all over the place. He wanted to sleep. He also wanted to bite the Magi’s hand. Goddess, he was never coming back to the medical ward if he could help it. Nothing good ever happened here. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Syrup wanted to dump all of her cupboards onto the floor. She knew better than that. She stood, alone for the first time in four years, in her cottage. They hadn’t taken anything else- only the children. She fumed. Taking Gannon was one thing, he was a Bearer and life just happened that way.  _ But the gaul _ , the absolute insolence, to take Maple, her own grandaughter and successor, was too much. 

If they wanted to take the children away because she was a witch, handling things as a witch does, then they were going to the retrobution of a witch. They were simple, even that noble Sheikah (what a controdiction!); they could not see what she knew. They had no vision, no sense of their place in the Grand Order. To the Goddesses, they were like ants, pretending that the maggots they worshipped were to save them. That’s all the bearers were, larval creatures that ate away at the corpses they leave behind. War and slaughter and persecution, those were lawful, but a little branding between kindred spirits? That was the great sin? Syrup nodded to herself. She nodded with a fury. 

She fetched the key for the lockbox in her room. Inside was another key, intriquet and complex in design. She crossed back to the kitchen and lifted up the countertop. Underneath, another safe hid. She gently turned the key and pulled the handle up. The three shelves held tiny little bottles, each with hair, teeth, or sometimes a finger. They were all labled. She pulled out a jar with a toe and one with three teeth in it. The rest only had hair. 

_ Link, Maple, Impa, Gannon, Jokoh, Zelda. _ No, the princess had nothing to do with this. That Syrup knew. She put the bottle back in the safe. She set Maple and Gannon’s bottles beside one another; they would need a protection spell. The teeth and the red hair bottles stood together on the countertop. The bottle of toe was her most potent sample. She had used it for a great many spells- protection, scrying, mild burning, and it’s old owner would be the first to recognize the signs. Still, he was only partially responsible. Perhaps she would thin the brew for him. He only needed to be warned. 

She made a thin brew. She dropped in the platinum blond hair, sliced the toe, and dropped in the thin bit of flesh.  _ Return her to me.  _

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 


	24. Back on Your Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I ended up making a chart of what their classes would shape their week.

Zelda stood tall at the blackboard. Loamol leaned against the teacher’s desk, perfectly unable to sit in one of the student chairs. Impa leaned against the wall, as she did often. Maple sat diligently in the first desk, and Gannon looked out the window into the cemetary. Zelda couldn’t help but feel an uncanny sense of familiarity. 

“Alright,” Zelda found her smile was genuine, and boy did that feel good for a change. “We’re here today to discuss what we should be studying. It’s easy to give them a generic education for their age, but given the cercomstances I believe a more  _ catered _ approach will be far more beneficial.”

“Agreed.” Loamol nodded. “I have started teaching him to write, but because the numbers are more universal we started with those instead of any particular language. Also his memory strays toward more…  _ historic _ systems.”

“That’s to be expected.” Zelda nodded. “For the longest time I thought Link was just doodling, until I started to be able to read them. Maple, you are able to read and write, correct?”

“Yup!” Maple beamed. “Granma had me reading early so I could help with the orders and the letters to customers. I can help Gan get to the present.”

“Then I can help you learn how to fight.” Gannon mumbled. As he turned his head to face Maple he slowly settled into the here and now. “I don’t want you to be fighting, but you should know how just in case.”

Impa looked to Zelda. Zelda could easily read her face.  _ Like father like son, after all. _

“You won’t be fencing for some time,” Zelda assured. “You need to focus on literacy, arithmatic, and logics. I’ll also see to it that you are taught a handcraft also.”

“Like… sewing?” Maple raised an eyebrow.

“A good example, yes.” Impa chimed in. “Both soothing for the soul, and practical.”

Gannon grimaced. 

“No, sewing fabric. Like making clothes.” Loamol comforted him. Zelda and Impa nodded. That was a fair distinction to make. Maple made a sour face of realization after a quiet moment. No, they would not be doing s _ titches _ . At least it wasn’t in the plan. 

“Well, we can’t forget that we have our Zora Secrets classes on the weekends.” Maple mentioned, mostly to change the subject. “I know most city kids get the weekends off, so can we get two other days off instead?”x= s?”

Gannon beamed. “Yeah! Uncle Sidon is gonna teach us. We have rooms there and  _ everything _ .”

“And this is the first I’m hearing about this, why?” Loamol was asking her son with a proud, but suspicious look. 

“A lot has happened, Mama.” Gannon nodded. “It’s hard to summerize everything.”

“I’ll send correspondance with them to see what their plans are for your education and have it accounted for.” Zelda turned to the board and wrote down ‘Zora Secrets: Saturday/Sunday’. Gannon squinted at the board, and while the letters were familiar he couldn’t make them out. Beneath it she wrote ‘Three Lessons: Literacy, Maths, Logics’ and ‘One Lesson: Crafting’. 

“Hey, wait.” Maple folded her arms. “That’s six days of education.” 

“Not necessarily.” Impa smiled. “It depends on how the schedule is organized. And lucky for you, the Princess has got scheduling  _ mastered _ .”

“Loamol, did you have anything in mind in particular?”

The woman nodded. “I have been teaching him our history as a People, but as in the glade it is here. My resources to do so are minimal.”

“What he  _ needs _ is to study his own history, that he might better understand his future.” The group turned to the window where Ghirahim pulled himself together. He had the fairy with him, sitting in the palm of his hand. Zeel floated over to Gannon and snuggled into the boy’s hair. “He needs to be meditating on his piece of the Triforce, and while we  _ have _ a library at our disposal, he needs to be studying spells and how they are constructed.”

Loamol was the first to furrow her brow with discomfort. Impa had it as a permanent facial expression so it didn’t show. Zelda, however, nodded and wrote it on the board. ‘Two Lessons: Gerudo History and Arcane Study’. “Thank you for your imput, Ghirahim.”

The jester was taken aback. There was no objection? There was no hesitance? He looked to Zeel. Was the fairy  _ right _ ? Zelda hadn’t even flinched to see him in the room. She knew who he was,  _ what _ he was and yet there was no... _ nothing _ . Maple turned around at her chair and waved at him. He waved back, because he was in a slight shock. 

“Maple, have you given it some thought?” Impa asked.

Maple nodded. The wind left her sails again. 

“Alright. Have you been able to make a decision?”

Maple paused. She took a breath to speak, but wasn’t sure what to say. She started with the feelings she already understood. “I need to learn how to do medicine properly, like a medic should. I know Gannon is going to get hurt and- and I am going to get him to his throne in one piece. I’m just-”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Gannon spoke. He spoke only as himself, but his tone carried the authority expected in his Triforce. “I couldn’t protect your father, and for that I am sorry, but I  _ can _ protect you. I will.”

Quiet fell over the room while the adults traded reactions. Ghirahim was the easiest for Zelda to read- he was in a state of mild panic. Loamol was worried, but also lost. Zelda had seen that face in her own reflection many times. Impa, however, was standing on a memory. Zelda turned back to the board. 

“We will put in for a few lessons on first aid, for the both of you.” Zelda decided. “After basic first aid, if we’re comfortable moving forward we’ll get into the more grizzly care.”

Then Zelda drew up a table to represent the week. It started with Monday, and finished on Sunday. She broke it up by mealtimes, what time the children  _ ought _ to be in bed, and feasible lesson lengths. She wrote in breaks based on her own experience and what she had learned Link’s attention span to be. They could always be adjusted later. Then she broke down the lessons. Monday was assigned maths, Gerudo history and literacy, Tuesday to crafting, first aid and logics, Wednesday was maths, arcane study and literacy, Thursday to be first aid, logics and literacy, and Friday to finally be maths, Gerudo history and arcane studies. Saturday and Sunday, of course, were blocked out to read Zora Secrets. Maple was disappointed to see that there were  _ no _ days off, much less the standard two that city kids got. Then she looked at the schedule again- there were  _ big _ breaks in between. Only having three classes a day left them with plenty of time to simply  _ be _ , exploring and getting into trouble. Zelda stared at her schedule, and wrote in the professors. She dragged the chalk across the board to frame her artwork and wrote DNE in the corner. 

“Subject to change, as I work out the logistics.” Zelda slapped her hands together to get the dust off them. She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out two little booklets. They had the emblem of the Royal Crest on it. One had a red cover, the other purple, handstitched together. “These are for the Library. When you borrow books they note it in here, and when they’re due back. Please be prompt. Many scholars come here just for the use of our library. You can designate only one person to be able to handle the books on your behalf, so choose wisely.”

Gannon stared at the booklet with an odd expression. He had a thought. “You said Dad was writing in older languages first, right?”

Zelda tilted her head. “I know he remembered the alphabet for ancient Hylian first, but whether or not he knew what he was writing was another question. We do still have some old manuscripts, but they’re too old to handle. There should be some studies where the text is presented before it is translated. Try the section on Foundational Literature.” Zelda paused. “And let me know how that goes. I’m curious as to how your memory works.”

Gannon squinted. He cast a glance to Ghirahim, who was settling into a disgruntled acceptance of the situation. He looked back at Zelda. “They’re just memories. They just...remember.”

Ghirahim smirked. “She doesn’t.”

That got a reaction from the Princess. She found something else to fixate on. Ghirahim’s gaze bored through her. She maintained her composure. It wasn’t Ghirahim that bothered her, but the confused expression on Gannon’s face. 

“She’s never remembered.” Ghirahim filled in. Impa cast a scowl at Ghirahim but that wasn’t about to bother him. “The Hero only remembers things as they become relevant, and yours surface in chornological order, but the Princess only gets to look ahead, based on the  _ gut feelings _ and  _ odd hunches _ her old lives have left on her like scars.”

Zelda  _ wanted _ to be upset about it, but her interest kicked in. “Wait, you remember things in chornological order?”

“I…” Gannon scratched at his hair. “Remember the big events? In order? And then sometimes other memories show up and I can tell where they’re  _ supposed _ to be based on the details, like clothes… or geography… But the further back I go the fuzzier or the… the  _ wronger _ they get.“

“More wrong.” Zelda corrected, gently. She put a bookmark in the train of thought. She turned her attention to Loamol, to hand her her own Library Booklet. It was bronze, like her hankerchief, with silver stitchings. “Here, I know we don’t have any proper literature on your culture, but hopefully you’ll find something that helps. I’m afraid we don’t have any books on helping Gannon with the Triforce of Power, either. Is there anything else we need to cover before I start working on the details?”

There was a moment of silence for thinking. Then Impa scrunched up her face, squinted at the lights, and promptly threw up. The fluids pushed around the half-digested food on the floor. 

_ Return her to me. _

Maple buried her face in her hands. “I knew this was too easy… I knew it.”

Gannon touched her shoulder. “Do you want to go back?”

Maple shook her head. 

“Then you won’t.” Gannon got out of his chair and gingerly stepped around the stray splatters of breakfast. “Come on. Dad will know what to do.”

“He’s a wolf right now.” Maple noted. She climbed over the bar that connected the desk and the chair. “What can he do?”

Gannon put out his hand. He looked Ghirahim in the eye. “Come.”

The diamonds flipped from pearl to black, the jester coming apart and the sword collecting into the boy’s hand. Too heavy to properly carry, Gannon slung him onto his back. He took Maple’s hand. He commanded that one of the guards in the hall escort them to the Medical Wing, and despite themselves, they obeyed. 

Loamol soothed Impa, cleaned up the mess, and considered a backup plan. Zelda thanked her, and then was hot on the children’s heels. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Tell me you have a plan.” Maple was still holding Gannon’s hand. 

“I think…” Gannon’s attention was split. “Ghirahim think’s it can work, but we’re not sure, and we’re not sure how bad this is going to be.”

“That’s not comforting.” Maple mumbled. Except that it sort of  _ was _ . She couldn’t explain it, but being dragged accross the castle to the medical wing to get something done? It was making her feel better. They were practically dragging the guard. There was a sharp sound. It started with a faint echo, but it wasn’t long before the faint became harrowing. 

“How-” Maple squinted. “Did you catch up to us in those shoes?”

Zelda held herself with practiced poise. “Gannon, what do you plan to do?”

“Take the crystal out.”

“Gannon-” 

“Ghirahim is confident that I can touch the crystals.” Gannon pushed against the medical door. “And I’m confident that I can remove it without killing him.”

Zelda held open the door so that it wouldn’t catch on Maple. As Gannon let go, Maple clung to her arm. The Medics started to yell, unabashed about the Princess, but Gannon ignored them. Zelda’s eyes were fixed on Link. He was asleep. 

Gannon held his hand over the crystals on the counter. He shut his eyes, reached out, and touched his thumb to it. Nothing happened. Gannon peeked at his hand. He picked it up and held it in his palm. Still, there was nothing. The medics fell quiet. The Magi stared, and whispered theories between them. He weighed it in his hand, got a good feel for it, and then put it down. 

Gannon tried not to look at Zelda. 

_ She is seriously going to let you do this.  _ Ghirahim reverberated.  _ You do realize that you can kill him now, and before the Princess can react we could have them. You could even use the crystal against her now- the Triforce will prevent her from death. She will likely become a bird… You stopped listening to me, didn’t you? _

Gannon put his hand on Link’s forehead. He breathed in, closed his eyes, and tried to feel the crystal within. He reached out with his piece of the Triforce. The light slipped through his eyelids, and his hand glowed over Link.  _ Courage _ reacted. Gannon could feel the crystal within like a parasite wrapped around Link’s heart. Gannon gripped at the fur and began to pull. 

Asleep, alight, and weakened, the wolf whimpered and whined. He gasped as if he was drowning. Gannon kept pulling. Instead of the fur coming up, the stone itself pulled together. Jagged, uneven and semi-opaque, the stone grew out of Link’s forehead like a horn. Gannon supported his wrist in his left hand, to keep it steady. The more he pulled the worse the pain became. The wolf began to howl,  _ and then he began to scream _ . 

The crystal finally let go. Gannon fell back into the counter and vials of blood fell on the floor and broke open. More crystals tumbled behind them, sitting in the blood and dissolving to corrupt it. Gannon wheezed, his lights snapped off, and Link was  _ finally _ himself. Then Link scattered into lights. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Gannon stared at the crystal. 

“You have to break it, Gannon, quickly!” Zelda shouted over his shock. 

Gannon froze. Thankfully Ghirahim had put the picture together. Inside the crystal was one last light, one last piece of Link. He pulled himself together and the Jester whipped his blade across the crystal. It cracked, just enough for the piece to escape. Ghirahim suddenly he knew too much. The blue light dashed into the scattering of lights and pulled them together.  _ Blob, Boy, Dog, Link. _ He hit the table with a thud, and promptly fell off the side. Thankfully, he didn’t fall into his own blood and the glass, and he also still had his patrolling underclothes. Ghirahim pulled Gannon to his feet. The boy was shaking. 

The medics took to cleaning up the mess. Link groaned. Zelda scooped him up into her arms, only helping him sit up. Ghirahim took Maple’s hand and dragged her to Gannon so that she could help support him. He reverted back to a sword, in Gannon’s hand with the tip of the blade resting on the floor. 

Link rest his head on Zelda’s shoulder. She wanted to say something, ask a question, but she knew it wouldn’t be helpful. 

“I-” Gannon shuddered. “I’m sorry I-I didn’t know he’d… I wasn’t trying to-”

“Gan. It’s okay, kiddo.” Link wheezed. “You really stepped up. Thanks.”

“Can you stand?” Zelda whispered. 

“All of my bones just changed shape.” Link stated flatly. “Give me a minute.”

“You are lucky that this did not go horribly wrong.” The medic hissed at Gannon. “I can only imagine how sour it would go for you if he died by your hand, well intentioned or not.”

“Hey, doc?” Link’s voice was quiet. 

“Yes?”

Link lit up. He craned his neck back as far as he could to look the medic in the eye. His voice spilled into the hall. “You would do well to mind your manners around my son.”

The medic backed out of the room, bloody rags and shards of glass in his gloved hands. Maple looked around the room. She didn’t recognize much (herbs were replaced with coloured fluids and powders), but she did see basic herbs in the cabinets. “I… I can make some basic painkillers… They’re not that strong but…”

Zelda shook her head. “They don’t work anymore, but that’s a kind thought.”

“We would need some weird bugs to make a difference, and we don’t keep them here in the castle anymore.” Link muttered. “ _ Oohh, it’s too dangerous, he keeps eating them alive… _ They would have too.” 

“What was dangerous was that most of your injuries were self-inflicted.” Zelda scolded him. She gently massaged his back, using the palm of her hand on the way down and the tips of her nails on the way up. “Or need I remind you about my shoe?”

Link quickly dropped the subject. He picked up his head. Zelda let go, stood up, and held out her arm. Link grabbed it at the elbow and they pulled him up. He made several facial expressions, all of them between agony and anger. He leaned on the table. 

“Did you forget how to walk?” Zelda chuckled. 

“No.”

“You have been on all fours for a bit.”

“Two days.” Link corrected. “Which I spent laying down most of the time, really. That was nice. Did you know dogs are colour blind?”

Zelda nodded. “Yes. Most people know that.”

“It’s wrong.”

“How.”

“Green is my colour. I should always be able to see it.” Link hissed. He stayed leaning on the table. He looked at Gannon. It was good to be able to see him properly. “You’ve grown a lot in the past few weeks, haven’t you?”

Gannon shrugged.

“At least you have your sword.” Link stared at Ghirahim. He admitted it did make him uncomfortable, but he wasn’t fully Gannon without him. “He’s a cunning piece of work, but definitely an asset to you. And Maple, it’s good to properly meet you.”

She turned from the cabinets to look at him. She honestly wasn’t sure what to think. He was shorter than she had imagined. He was less muscular than she had imagined. His eyes were just as blue though, just as her father had said they were. She didn’t know what to say, so she just bowed, uncomfortable. 

He pushed off the table and tested his balance. It was off, but manageable. He wobbled a couple of paces. Confident he had himself together he made his way for the door. He held it open for the others, trying to hide that he was leaning on it. Zelda rolled her eyes. 

“Oh,” Zelda ushered the children ahead of her, then held out her arm to him. He bowed and took her arm like a gentleman. She helped support his weight as they walked down the hall. “I started on their schedule. It’s not going to be confirmed for a few days while I get everything in order.”

“ _ Oh _ , indeed.” Link grinned. “A few days off the schedule, hm? Don’t tease me with chaos, Princess. I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Oh no,  _ you _ need to rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“I saw how much blood they took, Link.”

“And now I have it back.” Link shrugged. “And I believe you were right; about weakening the stone, I mean. Perhaps if we can find a way to contain it so it doesn’t get so… tangled, or if I could resist it, I might be able to shift back and forth.”

Maple’s ears perked. She gasped. “You would be a werewolf!”

“Does that mean you’re allergic to silver, now?” Gannon asked. He almost stopped in his tracks. “Are you allergic to chocolate?!”

“Let’s hope not,” Link frowned. “I like both of those things.”

“Since when has a moment’s harm stopped you anyway?” Zelda laughed. “But don’t be so quick to change the subject. You are resting for at least two days, and if you think you’re well enough to cause trouble then you’re well enough to join your squadron.”

She was surprised that Link didn’t object. Instead he was busy watching Maple and Gannon have their own conversation. He wore a peaceful face. It looked good on him. Zelda found herself watching them, too. She had expected having Gannon in the castle to feel wrong, to be an unnerving experience. Instead he  _ belonged _ here, somehow, with them. She watched him laugh at Maple’s (terrible) jokes, make plans for the next day’s worth of goofing off, and talk about the simple fact that Gannon and Maple had very different ideas on how to make a clubhouse. Link caught her train of thought, and with a smile said all he needed to.

_ Now you see what I see, don’t you?  _

And with her brow alone, she replied.  _ That doesn’t mean I’m not scared. _

He didn’t need to tell her that he would take care of it; that it would all be alright.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 


	25. Oaths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely one of my favourites. Assault warning. 
> 
> Those two sentances don't look right together. >>;

Zelda eased Link down into her mother’s armchair. He sank into it. Gannon and Maple piled into the other armchair. Zelda neatly tucked herself onto the arm of her mother’s chair, careful not to sit on Link’s hand. Impa put a log on the fire. Link kicked off his boots so he could feel the fire on his feet. Gannon and Maple immediately copied him. 

“Are you alright, Impa?” Link melted deep into the chair. 

“Me?” She shook her hand at him. “You!”

“No I mean-” he waved his hand about. “Syrup. I felt her summons but I hadn’t eaten, so I don’t know what she said.” 

Impa nodded. “She wants Maple to return to her. I disagree wholeheartedly.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“No, she doesn’t.” Gannon spoke up. “She belongs with me, and I belong here. She’s not going back to Granma Syrup’s.”

Link took a better look. He saw the bandages on their ankles, opposite sides. They wouldn’t look at him. Impa had a stern expression, but avoided his eyes. “What did you do?”

“We swore an oath.” Maple said. She reached down and unbandaged her ankle. The burn was healing into the shape of the Deku Flower. “It was our decision. So long as Gannon doesn’t declare war on Hyrule, I’m doing all in my power to help him to the throne.”  
Link was quiet.

“When I tried to interefere, Syrup put a wind in her halls so that I couldn’t reach them.” Impa was more upset with herself than the witch. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Link sighed. He sat up. “Gannon, you’re going to write her a letter.”

“...Okay.” Gannon squirmed in his seat. “What… am I going to say?”

“Exactly what you told me.” Link gestured to the side table by Gannon’s seat. Gannon reached into the drawer and pulled out paper, quill and ink. He passed them to Maple. She wrote down that she would not be coming home, in Gannon’s words. She stared at the letter and as much as she agreed with it, she felt fear. Link waved her over, and she brought the paper. 

Link bent over it and added his own words. 

_ You can either cast us to fate, or keep us under your thumb. You cannot have both. _

And then he signed it. 

Gannon slipped out of the chair to look at the letter.  He looked at Link’s signature. He plucked up the quill and shaded in the top triangle on the Triforce. Link blew on the ink to help it dry, then folded it in thirds. He pulled an envelope from the drawer and tucked it in. On the front he wrote  _ To Syrup, Witch of the Great Bay _ . 

With that set aside, Link pulled Gannon into his lap. Gannon looked at the floor. Link undid the bandage so he could see the burn for himself. “What did you use, a wax seal?”

Maple squinted in disbelief. “Yeah.”

“Did you sanitize it first?”

“Well, it was brand new…” 

Link scowled. “What is always the first thing you do, Maple?”

“Clean it.” Maple mumbled. 

“So why didn’t you?”

“I…” She didn’t have an answer. 

Link didn’t expect one. Instead he got a closer look at the burn. At least it didn’t seem to be infected, and there wasn’t any flaking from the metal. He gestured to Impa and she passed him the first aid kit from the mantle. He cracked it open on the arm of the chair. He pulled out a clean cloth and a tall black glass bottle. Maple grimaced. 

“This is going to sting.” Link lifted up Gannon’s ankle. He pulled the damp fabric tight around his one finger, and dabbed at the burn. Gannon winced, grimaced, but was careful not to flinch. Link put on the aloe, and then wrapped a new bandage on. “You got all that?”

Gannon nodded. 

“Good, because you’re doing it twice a day.” Link picked him up and put him back on the floor. He drew up a new cloth for Maple. He dabbed the alcohol onto the cloth and passed it to Gannon. “Go ahead.”

“I can do it myself,” Maple said. Link put the kit on his lap where Gannon could reach it. Gannon started cleaning the burn. Maple sat down on the floor so he could reach it easier. As Gannon cleaned the wound and treated it, Link coached him on what to look for, how to wrap the bandage, and how to clean up the kit. The two kids sat on the floor as Impa put the kit back on the mantle. 

Link took Gannon’s right hand. “Do you know what this is?”

“The Triforce?” 

“It’s an Oath, Gannon.” Link let his hand go. “You have a vow to your people that you must uphold. It’s not a promise. It cannot be broken. I cannot die because I am sworn to protect Zelda and her people.  _ That _ is an Oath. Even if you grow apart, even if you fight, you are stuck together. You are in a tough position, Gannon. You will need to obey both oaths.”

Gannon looked at his hand. “How?”

Link leaned forward. “I’m not entirely sure I even know what your oath is, Gan. I’ll help however I can, but in the end it will need to be you who upholds it.”

“This is my fault.” Maple pulled her knees to her chin. “I’m the one who insisted on it.”

“Zeel did try to warn us.” Gannon, despite being in trouble, took great comfort in leaning on Link’s leg. 

Link looked to Gannon’s head. The fairy was fast asleep. He found that odd. Not even Navi had slept that much. Link resolved to talk to him later. His bones ached from leaning forward, so he melted back into the chair. Gently. 

“These two have an arrangement with the Zora Family for the weekends.” Zelda mentioned. “Why don’t you take them? If anyone can get you to heal and relax, it’s them. Besides, I’m sure the Queen would like to have her suspicions confirmed, in person.”

Link realized that this was not a suggestion. 

“I’ll have him returned to you Monday, Impa.” Zelda assured.  
“That would be appreciated, your highness.” 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Zelda only returned to her quarters to pick up a notebook. It was from when she was seven, back when she was being tutored alone. She flipped through her notes, studying the paths her tutor took. It felt silly that she used to struggle with her k’s and her z’s, but Ancient Shekiahn came so easily. 

“I have some questions, Princess.” 

Zelda whirled, clutching the book to her chest. Ghirahim laid on her bed, boots and all. In his hands he held a toy triforce that she kept on her bedside table. Despite his relaxed posture the look on his face was of manic glee. 

“No boots on the bed.” Zelda commanded. 

He scowled. His feet detatched and in a glitter of diamonds, set themselves neatly on the floor. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but detaching his feet entirely was an impressive amount of spite. He slammed the toy triforce back onto the table. 

“What happened to your Hero?”

“You saw him.” Zelda turned back to her desk. Turning her back on Ghirahim felt like the only powerplay she had. “He’ll be sore for a little bit, but he’ll be fine. He always is.”

“Bullshit.” Ghirahim spat. Zelda was not used to being sworn at. Link had always been so careful not to. “He’s broken. He is  _ alive _ and he  _ should not be _ . I am used to him cheating, he could not compare to my King otherwise, but this is- this is  _ Necromancy. _ ”

Zelda was still. “Well there you go. He’s undead, or however you want to call it. He dies a lot, and then he comes back. If any of this is news to you, perhaps you should take a few classes on Hylian History yourself.”

Ghirahim put his feet back on. He marched up and put his arm around Zelda’s shoulders. He plucked the book from her hand and threw it onto the desk. He held her empty hand in his so that he could see the Triforce on it. Zelda froze. He held her so gently, so tenderly. His temper sat on the edge of Gentleman and Abuser. She could feel his breath on her neck. She felt vulnerable. Where was Impa? Where was Link? 

“You have so easily welcomed your enemy into your home.” Ghirahim whispered into her ear. “Simply because you want to support your little Redead so desperately. How much of that is guilt, Princess? How much of it is you begging for forgiveness for sacraficing a cursed babe to the King?”

“Ghirahim, let go.”

“Tell me, Princess.” She could feel his tongue flicker along her chin. Her heart beat in her ears but it was still not loud enough to drown out his voice. “Did your precious Hero die that night?”

Zelda pushed against him. His hand clamped against her wrist. His elbow closed around her shoulder. She thought to elbow him in the ribs, but the cold on her wrist reminded her that he was made of stone, or metal- not meat and bones.

“Just. Answer. Me.” 

The door burst open. Soldiers held their spears out. Ghirahim let go. He backed up two paces, splintered into diamonds and disappeared. Zelda assured them that she was alright. She requested that Impa be brought to her, but first she needed a shower. The female soldiers stayed with her and stood in the corners of Zelda’s private bathroom while she did. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

They came in, sweaty and uncomfortable from out in Hyrule Field. Three feet of training fence had been put up outside the Castletown gate. The wire had bitten strips into their gloves. They were going to need stronger protective gear for the job. They were sure to wash their hands thoroughly before they hopped into the showers. They got into their nightwear before they got their dinners. They had to get out of those clothes. Impa had given them permission. 

When they went into the mess hall, they saw him dressed to the nines at their table. Sitting in wealthy silk with embroidered details, he sipped at his milk. The guys piled in around him. Ko and Lo slapped him on the back (winning a groan). 

“You lucky bitch.” Lo smirked. “Two days off and all the meat you could eat.”

“I’m not pregnant.” Link smirked. “Haven’t been for quite a few lifetimes, thank you.”

Tamo blinked. “I don’t even want context for that. Good to have you back, though.”

“Not officially back.” Link finished his milk and it spilled on his chin. He wiped it with his sleeve. “I’m on medical leave until Monday. So you’re carpetners now, huh?”

The guys gave mixed reactions of ‘No’, ‘I hope not’ and ‘Look we’re trying’. Tim showed off the large broken splinters in his soft hands. “The posts are hard to push in, so they make me do them all.”

Link took Tim’s hands in his, and gently massaged the splinters out. It was something he was good at. “Do you guys want to borrow my gloves?”

“No offense,” Ko leaned on the table. “But ain’t none of our hands gonna fit in your gloves.” 

Link did see how small his hands were, especially compared to Tim’s. “Well, I mean, they’re ancient. They fit to the wearer.”

Ko and Lo shared at glance. “Wait, you’d actually lend us  _ those _ ?” 

“I mean, it would help you put in the fenceposts.” Link shrugged. “Just don’t fight eachother with them and you’ll be fine.”

 “Then maybe I should take them instead.” Ato glared at the not-twins. They nodded in agreement. “We really appreciate it.”

Link shrugged. “I should be out there with you. But  _ no _ ,-”

“Don’t spite her highness for looking out for you.” Tamo scolded. Supper was served. Pork ribs set down on the table. Link didn’t get a tray, which was fine. “Eating with the family tonight?”

“Yeah.” Link cracked a warm smile.  _ Eating with the family _ . “It’s uh, a bit of a big deal. All three of us haven’t eaten at the same table in… I actually don’t know how long. Gannon got to choose the dinner, so to add comedy to grandeur we’re having cheeseburgers. Can you imagine, the King of the Gerudo got to choose anything for dinner and he picked  _ cheeseburgers _ .”

“I mean, they’re good.” Tim nodded. He paused. “I kinda want one now. Extra onions.”

“Ooh, add some mushrooms?” Tamo joined in. He pulled apart the pork ribs. “Put an egg-wash on the bread so it comes out all golden?  _ That’s _ a burger.”

“You’re eating ribs.” Link gestured with his whole hand. “And dreaming of burgers.”

“Yes.” 

[Ok.] He signed, just out of defeat. “I guess I should get going. Her Majesty will chew me out if I’m late.”

“Hey.” Tamo caught his arm. “I’m glad you’re doing alright, but do try to rest, okay?”

“Yes, mother.” 

“I mean it.”

“Hey Ma,” Ko chimed in. “Get off his back.”

“I will ground all of you.” Tamo pitched his voice higher. “And you’ll be stuck on dish duty for a week.”

“Great,” Link tried not to laugh, it hurt. “On vacation  _ and _ grounded. I will die of boredom.”

 

The table in the dining hall was decorated as if it were a holiday. They had laid out the good silver and the crystal goblets with the gold brims. Tealights of red, blue and green decorated the table. The plates were of black porcelin with gold and silver details baked in. Link had always felt that this table was the best part of the holidays (except of course, the presents). Link stood behind his chair. The rest of the table wasn’t set- the council would not be joining them tonight. He found himself partially relieved, but also disappointed. It would have been nice to eat with his kid in front of them, just to be spiteful. 

“Wow.” Gannon snuck up behind him. “You clean up nicely.” 

“You don’t do too bad yourself.” Link noted the red half-skirt around his waist over the black slacks. It was a brillaint tie between the Gerudo flowing fabrics and the Hylian formal wear. A small jacket tied it all together, with no shirt underneath. Link couldn’t help but notice that he was squaring his shoulders more, that his face was downcast. “What happened?”

“Ghirahim crossed the line.” Gannon said it with disappointment, with betrayal. “I’m… I’m not letting him screw this up for us.”

“I see.” Link nodded. Great, he had something unpleasant to look forward to. On the other hand, Gannon was already taking responsibility for his forces. It was hard to see someone so small stand so tall, but there he was, doing it. 

When Zelda came in she was visibly shaken. She walked with her head high, but her footsteps were quiet- wary. Link immediately anticipated an awkward dinner, but when Zelda and Gannon shared a look there was one of confidence. Whatever they had done with Ghirahim, it had made things better instead of worse. Link found himself well out of the loop. 

Soon Impa and Maple came in, taking their places. The five of them stood behind their chairs, waiting for the Ruling Couple to escape their duties. When the king and queen finally snuck into the dining room they closed the door to several diplomats dogging them for a ‘quick’ decision. The king clapped his hands. Servants filed in and set down the hot towels on the table. 

“Well,” King Zolbolph smiled over the group. “Both Link and Impa now have stepped out and come back with a child. Zelda, is there anyone you wish to sneak into the castle before we sit down?”

A chuckle broke over the table. “No, father, I think this is all of us.”

The king pulled out the chair for his wife, she sat, and then so did he. Following the king’s lead, Gannon pulled out the chair for Maple. She promptly teased him for it. They sat, washed their hands with the hot towels, and the servants marched out with the burgers. Link could smell the onions and the mushrooms and he had to admit, the guys were right. Maybe Gannon had chosen well.

The chatter was mundane. Zelda asked about what sort of laws the diplomats were begging for now, and her parents dismissed with with exhaustion. Maple and Gannon immediately hid themselves in their own conversation. Link already heard the veiled secrets of their inside jokes. He was more curious than worried. Then Maple started nudging him to talk to the adults. Link raised an eyebrow at Zelda. She waggled them back at him. 

“So, uh.” Gannon kicked his feet under the table. All eyes were on him. “When am I getting a brother?”

Impa covered her face with a burger. Everyone else looked at Link. “Sorry Gan, you know your mother can only do one son. You do have three older sisters, though.” 

Gannon took a bite of his burger, “No offense Maple,”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” said Link. 

Gannon leaned his head back against the chair to try and finish the bite he took. Impatience burned on his face. Finally, “I always have sisters. I always have  _ a lot _ of sisters. I want a brother, and this is my one chance to get one.”

Then it dawned on Link what he meant. He took a bite of his burger to dodge the question. He was thinking of something to change the subject to, but in the corner of his eye he saw the trap closing. The king was grinning. He sat back in his seat. Zelda shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“I’m uh,” Link glanced at Zelda, and though she glanced back, they quickly found soemthing else to stare at. “Not in a position to be adopting more children.”

“Who said anything about adoption?” Gannon protested. Then he got a better look at the room. He was confused, or rather, unhappily surprised. “Wait, you guys aren’t  _ married _ ?”

“No,” Zelda sighed. She cut her burger with her knife and fork, which made Maple give Impa a puzzled look. Impa shrugged. Zelda buried her frustration under the lettuce. “Is there any particular reason you assumed that we were?”

Gannon traced the silver lines on his plate with burger sauce. “Because you always do. I watch you two fall in love over and over again, and then I die,” Gannon looked up. He looked at the both of them with a spark of hope, “wait, does this mean I finally get to go? Can I be the ring bearer?!”

Link rubbed the bridge of his nose. “There’s not going to be a wedding, Gannon.”

“But-”

“No.” Link kept his voice down but the tension in his voice sufficed. Gannon shrunk in his chair. Link immediately felt guilty for it. “Sorry, kid. I mean, he would be a lot younger than you, wouldn’t he? By the time he was any fun to play with you’d be half-way to grown up and ruling a country, right?” 

Gannon was quiet a moment. “I guess.”

Impa asked Maple what she thought of the castle, and the girl happily picked up the subject change. The conversation drifted to architecture, which Link had recently picked up as a hobby for study, and things moved along for the rest of the evening. Gannon chipped in to a happier conversation, but he couldn’t help but look at the other two bearers. He couldn’t figure what had gone wrong. He decided the only reasonable thing to do was to blame himself.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The Temple of Time Jr, the replica in the Castletown square, felt dirty. It felt misused, but also important in its own right. It’s irregular guests had left it an irregular gift. The Temple Jr had felt they did not belong, but they knew the song. They were given entry. 

Now, in the center of the octogonal room, in the pedistal, stood the wrong sword. It screamed in place. It could not fight the seal, but it refused to sleep. The stain glass windows let in a rainbow of light, but what should have been reflected in beautiful patterns around the room off the blade instead were absorbed into its bloodgrooves.

_ They’re lying, _ it chanted,  _ they’re lying to you. They are weaker than ever and you can swallow them whole! DON’T HEED THEM. DON’T OBEY THEM. TAKE WHAT IS YOURS. _

The sword’s voice swirled in the room, but never found its escape. It’s master left it behind. Ghirahim had crossed the line and Gannon was heartbroken. Ghirahim had refused to apologize for serving his king, his way (the old way). Gannon said nothing about coming back. Ghirahim was used to being sealed for eons, until Gannon was ready to weild him. That part was familiar. 

Ghirahim screamed because now he worried for his king. He worried that his king would be led astray, and his throne broken. He had to get out. He had to protect him. He had to fight for the king who would not defend himself. Ghirahim screamed, and no one could hear him. 


	26. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter about grief! There will be more of these. There is so much grief to go around.

Maple couldn’t sleep. She liked her room, but it was too big. Now that she had seen the furniture in daylight, their antique aesthetic made them haunting in the night. The bed was too soft, the covers too heavy, and the glass of the window rattled in the breeze. There was no scent of brew or stew, no ramblings of an elderly woman alone with her thoughts. It was so quiet, so devoid of anyone  _ living _ in such an ancient place. She saw the garden out her window, but she knew the cemetary was nearby. She couldn’t sleep in here. She scooped up the robe that hung on her bedpost and clumsily tied it around her waist. 

She closed the door as quietly as she could. She thought the guards at the end of the hall were going to stop her, but they only nodded. At night the castle was another creature. She knew the way to the Servant’s Wing, she was sure of it, but nothing looked right. She should have worn slippers, or at least socks. The floor was cold. She stuck to the rugs and hopped over the gaps. Empty suits of armour glared at her with haunted souls. Hopping was disrespectful, the armour thought, and so instead she just stretched her feet as far as she could. 

She was sure she was in the right place, but she didn’t know which room, which identical door would lead to Gannon. She kept stretching her gait from rug to rug, deeper into the wing she thought was right. It was less decorated further in, but still as eerily quiet. 

A loud  _ bang _ rang in one of the rooms down the hall, followed by the swinging ring of a metal bowl twirling to a stop. It had given her a good start, but it was a  _ familiar  _ sound. That was the sound of someone in a kitchen. Maple rushed toward it. Finally, someone else was alive in this twilight zone. 

The kitchen doors stood out; doors that swung in both directions. She glanced through the porthole window on the door but she didn’t see anyone. There was, however, the bowl on the floor. Thankfully there had been nothing in it. Maple pushed through and stepped into the kitchen. Unlike the halls of the castle the room was warm- the oven was preheating. She didn’t see anyone, but she did hear rustling through a cabinet. She walked around the island in the kitchen to find them. 

It was not who she hoped for. He held various bowls in his hands, an open bag of flour pinched between his teeth. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either, only the pants he had worn to dinner. He was completely absorbed in the task. She wasn’t sure what to say. 

“Y-you should be resting, Sir Link.” Maple whispered. She didn’t how know else to address him. She found herself twirling the belt on her robe in her hands. He didn’t acknoweldge her. There was flour around his ears but no cotton in them. “Do you want help?”

Still, no answer. He finally chose a few bowls, and threw some forks on the table. He dumped the whole bag of flour into a bowl and left the bag on the floor. He turned toward the upper cabinets and then she noticed it. His eyes were lit. He looked around the kitchen, clearly confused. 

“Are you sleepwalking?” She paused. “Sleepbaking. More like Sleep-Making-A-Mess...ing. What are you trying to make, anyway?” 

At least she knew she wasn’t going to get an answer. She picked up the bag of flour and set it aside on the counter. As he drifted about the kitchen she followed him. Some things he remebered, some things he stared at an empty space for a good minute before changing his mind. He tapped his hands on the countertop, a rhythm that was familiar. 

“What are you looking for?” she asked, in vain. Soon he had cinnimon, baking powder, piping bags and a hefty bag of sugar that trailed grains across the kitchen. The ants would be in heaven by morning. He had a sifter too, which he had to open the cabinet six times to find. Link opened a door on the wall that Maple thought would be an oven, but instead it was a gate to the chicken coop. He plucked the eggs out from the chickens as they slept. He juggled them back to the counter, cracked them into a bowl with one hand, and then forgot about them again. Maple followed him around the kitchen, putting plates over bowls as lids, wondering where to find a broom. The more he gathered the more the music overcame him and soon he was humming under his breath, whistling the high notes. She didn’t know the song, but she had a feeling she should have. 

Then it came together. As he ducked into the pantry for the thousandth time he came out with a paper wrapping of chocolate. She looked at all the things on the counter. There were still some pieces missing (the milk, for one, which he had gotten twice and drank a minute later), but she could see what he was after. Everything she had buried over the past week welled up. 

“No!” She snapped at him. Finally he noticed her. His glowing eyes, pupiless and casting soft shadows under his cheeks, bore through her. She snatched the chocolate from his hands. He had no reaction on his face. “No, you don’t get this. You don’t get to make  _ this _ .” 

He took the chocolate back. Though he didn’t have the definition she expected of the Hero he certainly had the strength. He put it on the counter and started looking for something else. He started signing with his hands what he was looking for, but she didn’t know the meaning of it. 

“Hey!” She snatched the chocolate off the counter and she shoved it in her robe pocket. She choked up and her eyes welled up. What was already hard to see in the dim lights of night blurred. She never believed that she could look him in the eyes, but she did. “You have no right,  _ no permission _ to- to-”

The door swung open. Gannon dragged his yawning mother in. He tried to take in the whole room at once. Maple was starting to sob, Link was signing for  _ fire in a box  _ but standing at a counter, and there was every dry ingredient tracked around the kitchen. Gannon blinked. 

“Maple, get away from him.” Gannon whispered. He held out his hand. “Come on. Just… let him do what he’s doing and let’s go back to bed.”

“No!” Maple roared. “No, I won’t let him!” 

“He’s not himself right now, Maple.” Gannon stressed his whisper. “He’s not  _ safe _ . Just give him space.”

“I’m sorry, Maple.” Loamol tucked Gannon to the door, and hustled across the kitchen. She picked up Maple into her arms (which took Maple by great surprise because no one had picked her up in years) and marched out of the mess. She ushered the children into the hall. “Sweetheart, Gannon’s right. Just leave him be for now.”

“You can’t just let him do whatever he wants.” Maple snapped. She shook the chocolate at Gannon. Tears streamed onto the robe. Her nose bubbled up. “I don’t care how scary he is! He doesn’t get to steal from me! He doesn’t get to just-  _ disrepect his memory _ .”

That was the last piece Gannon needed to understand. The other servants in the wing (many already hard at work) peeked from their doors into the hall. They sneered at the ruckus. A few faces wore pity, but only through a thin mask of annoyance. 

“Come on.” Gannon took her hand and led her across the hall. “If he doesn’t have the chocolate, he’ll just… not make the recipie, right?”

“...Right.” Maple finally let her voice drop its volumes. “It’ll just be… a normal, weird, probably gross cake.”

Gannon laughed. “You’ve never had his cooking. It is definitely going to be gross.”

Maple couldn’t laugh. It put weight on Gannon’s chest. Loamol gently touched Maple’s shoulder, and somehow that was all she needed to ‘say’. Maple let it all her tears out. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.  

Loamol looked through the porthole in the door. Link was tearing the kitchen apart. He wasn’t speaking, but she understood some of the gestures he made. None of them were kind, but she found that Link was scolding himself. 

[You always lose everything.]

[How anyone trusts you with a stick is a mistake.]

[Who the hell loses a… a…  _ what _ , a box of fire? It’s  _ in the wall _ . It’s supposed to be in the wall. Where  _ is the acursed thing.  _ Where’s the chocolate? You just had it.]

[The hell did I do to my hands this time?]

“I’ll be right back.” Loamol cupped Gannon’s face in her hand. She knelt down to kiss his forehead. Gannon only nodded. He stood in the hall, completely unprepared to console the grieving Maple.

Loamol made no attempt to be quiet as she walked through the kitchen. She picked up the bowl and put it on the table. She hummed a familiar tune of her own. She watched as he settled from someone absorbed in his thoughts to someone vaguely aware, focused but listening. She leaned around to see his face, so he could see hers. She made sure he could see her hands, that it wasn’t a shock when she put her hands on his shoulders. She gently turned him toward the oven. 

“It’s right here, Link.” She whispered. She nudged him toward it until he could rest his hand on the handle. It was one of the newer additions to the kitchen, a stove-top oven instead of the brick ovens in the wall. She waited for him to recognize it, but he just stared at the box through many lifetimes of a different kitchen in the same space. “Look, you already set it to pre-heat. You know what it is.”

He started to blink. Loamol’s shoulders relaxed. Link broke into a yawn and the lights faded like smoke from a lantern. He looked around him. He rubbed his face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” Loamol spoke softly, “but Maple is pretty upset.” 

He gave her a confused look. He looked to the counter. 

“What were you making?”

“A mess.” Link huffed. “Clearly. Why did I pick up seven eggs. Nothing needs seven eggs. I even left the eggshells in. Did I just… dump the whole bag of flour…?”

“Link.” She touched his arm. “Maple.”

“I don’t know.” He searched the counter for answers, but he got stuck on the pile of forks. “I don’t know why she’s upset. Uh… She’s never seen me sleepwalk before. Maybe she just… got spooked? I’ll… I’ll go talk to her.”

He stepped around the wide trail of sugar grains. He pushed through the door and glanced around the hall. Gannon was standing over Maple who was hunched against the wall. He knew those shaking shoulders. Gannon had borrowed a spear from one of the suits of armour. It was too big for him and he wasn’t sure how to hold it. 

“I’m awake.” Link whispered. Gannon lowered his guard. “Is she alright?”

Gannon wagged his hand to and fro. [So-so.]

He only took a few small steps to close the gap. He crouched in front of her to try and see her face. It was buried in her robe. All he saw was her hand. She had her fingers clamped around the baking chocolate. He put the other pieces, the other ingredients strewn across the table, together into a sore realization. 

“Hey.” His voice was just above a whisper. “You know that recipie, don’t you?”

She didn’t answer him, not at first. Then she shook her head. She clutched the chocolate tighter. 

“You must miss your dad.” Link found himself wrapped in memory. He remembered a portly kid, struggling to keep up with the rough and tumble child hero. He remembered a responsible kid, always trying to keep balance in the house between a witch and a wildchild. He remembered the same kid who fought to read books at night so that he knew how to patch Link back together after all his dumb stunts. 

“What do you care?” Maple sniffled. “You weren’t  _ there _ .”

Link paused. He looked to Gannon, who looked at the floor. Link’s heart hid. He got up, only to sit against the wall next to her. She hugged her knees to her chest. Link propped up one knee and hung his arm over it. He stared at the mark on the back of his hand. They sat in silence; angry and wounded silence. 

“When?” Link finally managed.

“Little more than a week ago.” Gannon breathed. “There… there was a fight in a village near the Gorons. He was helping the soldiers there.”

“It wasn’t a  _ fight _ .” Maple snapped. Her anger whipped from Link to Gannon. “They were  _ your _ monsters that attacked! There was nothing in the village for them and they still marched up and tried to burn it to the ground!”

Gannon recoiled. He dropped the spear. He thought of several things to say, but he bit his tongue. Instead, he walked across the hall and found another wall to sit against. He curled up, Maple’s mirror image. Link took a deep breath. 

“Did you taste it?” He pointed to the chocolate. 

“I know what chocolate tastes like.” Maple hissed. Link didn’t say anyting else. He let the space between thoughts urge her on. She gave in and took a bite of the chocolate. She girmaced. Her mouth twisted with displeasure. “It’s so  _ bitter _ .”

“Baking chocolate.” Link explained. “That’s sixty percent chocolate right there. The only way to make his cakes properly.”

She shook her head. “No way. His cake tastes amazing. It’s sweet and fluffy and perfect.”

“Yeah.” Link leaned forward. His spine ached. “That’s what your father does.”

Maple hugged herself tighter and looked away from him. She clung tight to her anger and her rejection. “You abandoned him. He would be alive now if you had just... ”

It hurt. Link had heard it a thousand times. It stung like a bitch every time. People he knew, people he didn’t; men, women and children alike.  _ They would be alive now if you- _ everyone had different words. They all meant the same thing. Link replied to them all the same way. Silence. For too many lifetimes he offered worn apologies, only to be bitten back. Silence was all he had left. 

“He was ready to follow you anywhere and you just-” she broke out into sobs again. Each word was peppered with a heaving chest and shaking breaths. “You abandoned him, all alone there with Granma, just like he abandoned me.”

Gannon lifted his head. He looked to Link for a grounding point, but Link’s focus was entirely on Maple. She had to get it out. There was no stopping the train- or else it would never hit the tracks again. Link could only wait. 

“You-you know the last thing I said to him?” She lifted her head only to spew her anger onto the floor. “He said ‘I’ll see you later’ and you know what I said back? I said  _ ‘No you won’t.’ _ You should have seen his face. It was like I had spit at him. I wasn’t even angry. I don’t know  _ why _ I said it. I just did. I… just  _ knew _ .”

She broke into a full weeping. “My dad just wanted to keep me safe and I _ cursed him _ . I planted so many charms to try and undo it but- but-”

She couldn’t keep the words together anymore. No one was working in the rooms nearby. All of the guards, all of the servants stood in silence. They each remembered different people. They all had someone they had lost- last decade, last year, last month. Some collapsed into the arms of those closest to them. 

“And that’s when Syrup said you would make a good witch, isn’t it?” Link’s voice was a rumble, almost as bitter as the chocolate itself. Maple nodded. “Premonitions are different from curses, Maple. You know that.”

“They feel the same.”

“Yeah. They do.” Link took a deep breath. He rest his head on the wall. It was time to work. He stood up. “Come on.”

“Come on  _ what _ .” Venom coated her words, sloppy and reaching for a target. She didn’t know where to strike. 

“It’s your father’s cake.” Link held out his hand to her. “You should know how to make it.”

Maple choked back the mucus. She stared at Link. All the stories that her father had told her still didn’t fit, but at least now she could see the monster that her father had idealized. They had been brothers, and while her father never held a grudge against Link for leaving, she always did. She had done it on his behalf. Looking at him now, she understood. Link had been holding the grudge, too. She passed him the chocolate, and then stood up by herself. She still wasn’t going to forgive him, not yet. His eyes spoke volumes- that he knew and he understood. She felt better, and she didn’t fully understand how. 

Gannon awkwardly stood up. He looked at the floor and rubbed his arm. Link held open the door. Maple went in, and Link waited still. Just to keep Link from staring, Gannon shuffled into the kitchen. Slowly the servant wing went back to work. Loamol stayed with them, just to make Gannon feel more safe. It would be a while before they had sorted through the mess and made a cake out of it. Link wouldn’t have it any other way. Sorting through the mess and making it better was what his brother was best at.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“You asked for me, Princess?” Loamol wished she could hide the bags under her eyes. She bowed deeply. Zelda was taking notes based on several textbooks and the small experiment on the table. She wore a eyepiece that allowed her to see deep into the vial in her hands. 

“Yes…” Zelda pulled herself away from her hobby. She took out the eyepiece, set the vial in a tray, and took off her gloves. “Thank you for coming. You’ve been speaking with the Sheikah, yes?”

“As you requested, yes.” Loamol glanced at the hall. “Should I come in?”

Zelda shook her head. “What did they say?”

“They can recraft the bracelet.” Loamol reported. “They have enough fragments and resources to replicate the device. They would need some time to craft it from scratch, however. Teaching it to do what they needed, as they said, is quite different from engineering a spell.” 

“Excellent.” Zelda stood up and crossed to her bed. She knelt down and opened the drawer. What Loamol could see from the doorway would be considered  _ blackmail _ for most. Loamol was only glad that the Princess was able to look after herself. She found what she was looking for all the way in the back. She bounced to her feet and closed the drawer with a nudge of her heel. “Have them work the system into this.”

Loamol furrowed her brow together. She turned it over in her hands. “Permission to speak candidly, Princess?”

“With what you put up with you’ve earned it.” Zelda chuckled. “What is it?”

“Did you purchase this recently?” 

Zelda dismissed the suggestion with a smirk. “Oh, no. I originally got it as a prank when we were younger. Of course, I realized it wasn’t funny then so I just kept it. Now that he’s over his whole dogs thing, it’s funny again.”

Loamol sighed. It was amusing. “It may be things of this nature that make him shy of you, Princess.”

“Oh,” she put the eyepiece back on and took to the vial. “It’s just a collar. Besides, he might like it. Once I have this shifting thing up and running for him he’ll need something that doesn’t pull on his fur.”

“I don’t suppose there is a leash to go with it?” 

“Well, that’s what the Shiekah Technology is for, isn’t it?” Zelda raised an eyebrow. “Why settle for leather when you can annoy him into obedience?” 

“I worry for you both.”

Zelda fell back into focus on her project. “Noted. You’re dismissed.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Gannon and Maple sat in the garden. Impa leaned against the terrace. She was only there to keep an eye. They wanted to run and explore the halls of the castle, check for all the secret passages (there had to be at least a kajillion) and maybe find out where all the treasure was hiding. Instead they were too tired. The sugar rush from their cake breakfast left them crashing in the autumn sun. Impa was glad that they had finally come down. 

“We said we’d do this today and we will.” Gannon insisted. He felt like a wilted beanstalk. Gannon cupped his hands around Zeel. “Just because Ghirahim isn’t here to help doesn’t mean I can slack off.”

Maple stared at the pattern on the cobblestones. “Gan, you don’t have to do this right now. We can do something else.”

“No.” 

Zeel flew up to look Gannon in the eye. Gannon folded his hands into neat fists and pushed his knuckles together. He wasn’t sure how meditation was supposed to go, but this felt right. The Triforce on his right hand sat like a tattoo, flowing over the bones in his hand. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to do this… alone?” Maple stared at the mark like a trainwreck. “I can bother someone else.”

“I want you here.” Gannon looked her in the eyes, even if she couldn’t look back. “After ten minutes, tell me to stop.”

Maple looked at the sunlight on the arches around the window. The hours were engraved into them. She figured the marking to measure the ten minutes. She noddded to Gannon. Zeel sat on the back of Gannon’s hand. Gannon took a deep breath and turned on the lights. 

 

_ Sand blew around his ankles. In the night it was like frost, ice with the strength of stone cutting at his skin. He looked down on the valley of dunes. The camp withstood the sand, but the people were already afraid. They had heard the stories. Their torches had blown out. Men whimpered like boys.  _

_ He signalled to the souls standing atop the dunes. Eyes reflected the starlight with hunger, with thirst, with bloodlust. In the camp there was food. In the camp there was prey. They waited like a flood laps at the banks. He knelt in the glass-sharp sand. On behalf of the men about to die, he offered a prayer onto Din. May the lives they snuff out burn forever in her hands, until they are sown back into the world below.  _

_ He raised his hand. He clenched his fist. The beasts of the desert decended on the camp like locusts. He stood on the dunes away from the battle. He had to save his strength. He had a bigger battle coming, a bigger prey to catch. In the center of the camp was a woman, who wrapped her child close to her chest and fled. The monsters let her go. It was not yet time.  _

_They followed her until she died of her own stupidity. In the blaze of daylight that fortnight hence, he raised his blade. The black bloodgrooves in the stonework glistened with anticipation._ _  
__“I’m sorry about this.” He said. The baby in the bundle did not offer him any forgiveness. It did not have anything clever to say, or anything to swear by. Instead it just cried, probably because it didn’t like how hot the sand was. “I just can’t have you in the way. You understand.”_

_ And so Gannondorf, King of Evil and Demon King of the Horde, plunged Ghirahim thorugh the chubby belly of his future adversary. It took all of his strength to do so. Murdering a child took all of his constitution and resolve. The monsters devoured the corpses. They would soon descend upon Hyrule with a fury. _

 

Gannon opened his eyes. He could still see the dunes around him, the sand blowing through the garden. Maple was watching the window. She wasn’t herself. She wasn’t really there. He turned to see Impa. Impa was there, but she was different. She was several different women (once or twice a man) of the Shiekah tribe, carrying the same name. Gannon squinted. The Impas scattered on different lattices, different postures, but the same vigilent stare. 

“Maple,” he muttered. His voice echoed back into his ears and it hurt his head. “Maple can you hear me?”

She hesitated. No, she existed later. She answered him now, but her words were the future. “Yeah, you okay?”

He couldn’t answer her from where he was. The desert was roaring in his ears. He put his hands on the sides of his head, but he could still see his fists in front of him. The meditating fists were that of a child, but the hands on his head were that of a grown man. He was both. He was disgusted at what he had to do, at what he did, but now and in the future. In the present he felt no shame- only mourning. In the future he was dizzy. He would be dizzy or he was dizzy…?

Gannon shut his eyes. He focused on the boy that he was supposed to be. The sand receded, but the wind blew it back. Gannon looked at his hands and fixed his attention on the red light. He open and shut his eyes until the wind was but a breeze and the sand hid under the garden soil. Maple sat in front of him, as solid and as real as this morning. He stared at her, and she stared back. 

“Gan?”

“Y-yeah.”

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m here.” Gannon stammered. “I mean, I’m okay.”

The fairy swayed. “I think that was a good first run.”

“Good?!” Gannon wheezed. “That was horrible!”

“I mean,” Maple looked at the window-clock again. “You came back in time, and you didn’t get hurt, and you didn’t act out. So, I think I agree with Zeel.”

Gannon sighed. “I guess.”

“Now we’re going to do soemething harder.” Zeel looked at Gannon with resolve. “Instead of just seeing it, I’m going with you.”

Gannon was immediately uneasy. “You can’t go back in time. You don’t exist then.” 

“You’re not going back in time, Gan.” Maple put a hand on his knee. “You’re just remembering it. If Zeel is there, then maybe you can change what you see, or what you want to remember. Maybe you can change what memory you look at?”

That would be nice. Not to watch that same memory again. Gannon had a feeling that wasn’t how the memory worked. He looked to the sky, put his knuckles back together, and adjusted how he sat so that he sat on the cobblestones differently. They waited for the sun to hit the next ten minute mark. 

 

_ “This serves no purpose.” The jester stared at the baby. “He’s just going to come back, again, in about a year. We are wasting time with this.” _

_ “If we let him grow, he will only haunt us when we are vulnerable.” Gannondorf replied. “You know this to be the truth. It is better to destroy him where his memory is frail than to devour the vitality of a boy. By destroying him this way we lose nothing.” _

_ “We lose his piece of the Triforce!” Ghirahim howled. “We need to take it!” _

_ “He needs to give it willingly.” Gannon groaned. “We went over this. Until we are able to take the child and groom him for our purpose, he is a complication. If you cannot accept that simple strategy then you can be silent.” _

_ Then Gannon stood apart from himself. Zeel hovered over his right hand. The boy-Gannon followed the grown-Gannon. “So, wait, I killed him over and over, because I wasn’t ready to keep him?” _

_ “That’s what it sounds like.” _

_ “It sounds like I was just trying to control him.” _

_ “That is what this sounds like.” _

_“So, okay, I know I need to collect all three pieces. That’s how the Wish happens. Right. And we all need to give it willingly.”_ _  
__“Which explains all the failed attempts to capture the Princess.”_

_ “Right.” Boy-Gannon watched the monsters devour the baby. “Because I couldn’t force her to give me her Wisdom. So I guess if I raised Link myself after I had already conquered Hyrule, I could just…” _

_ “Teach him whatever you wanted.” _

_ Gannon paused. “That’s what Ghirahim is afraid of now.” _

_ Zeel didn’t say anything.  _

_ “I’m…” Gannon looked at his grown self. He wasn’t happy. His army of monsters dragged across the heat. Hyrule was far from here. “I’m not sure what to do with this.” _

_ “Protect yourself.” Zeel said it with reluctance. “If you think they are trying to take your Triforce from you, fight back.” _

Gannon opened his eyes. The lights dimmed so that his red irises reflected the cobblestones. Maple looked away from the window. Zeel dropped down onto his hand. They sat quiet for a few minutes. 

“What did you see?”

Gannon shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about it. “This isn’t the first time we’ve tried to break the rules, I think.”

“What, the rules of the Legend?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Gannon stood up because his butt hurt. He stretched his legs.

Maple stood up with him. “Maybe it’s because you all want the same thing.”

“Well, yeah.” Gannon folded his arms. Zeel perched into his hair. “We all want to make a wish.”

Impa pushed off the lattice. “That’s not true.”

Maple and Gannon had almost forgotton about her. The looked at one another. Maple folded her arms and leaned on one foot with a sassy grin. “Come on. I mean, I would  _ not _ mind having a Wish.”

“Zelda only wants to protect her people.” Impa said coldly. “And Link… well that would require a plan, wouldn’t it?”

“So… what, I’m the bad guy because I see opportunity?” Gannon snapped. “Because I actually want things to change? I want things to be better for my people, and  _ that’s _ why I’m  _ Evil? _ ”

Impa’s face softened. Gannon had never seen that before. “No one is calling you evil.”

“Nonsense.” Gannon looked down the path toward the kitchen. “He avoids using the word around me. I know he does. I also know he thinks it every time. The second he wanted change, the second he decided to do something different, he lost all he had. Now  _ he’s _ the bad guy.”

“He did something foolish.” Impa asserted. “What he did was amiable, but it was reckless and he did not consider his alternatives.”

“Trust me, his alternatives sucked.” 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


	27. Little Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would LOVE a Library that used floor patterns to conduct traffic. Imagine like, a certain blue for Historical Fiction, and a dark red for self help, and in large circular tiles in the main isles all the colours would be represented on the compass by their direction??? And there would be coloured stickers on the spine of the books? IMAGINE BEING ABLE TO GO WHERE YOU'RE GOING AND WALK AND READ AND TOTALLY BUMP INTO SOMEONE LOOKING FOR THE SAME SECTION AS YOU AND FALLING FOR YOUR DORKISH LOOKS-

The sun beamed over the garden _perfectly_. The kids had broken out the chalk over the cobblestones. Maple was trying to use it as an avenue to teach Gannon to read, but he only wanted to draw mountains. Link couldn’t blame him. White-shaded triangles stretched across the stones. On their edges Maple wrote different words in families, _sat hat rat bat mat fat cat-_

“The sun is lovely.” 

Link closed his eyes. It honestly was. It soothed his shoulders and his cheekbones. Through the shirt he could feel the rays snuggling up under the fabric. He thought about taking off his boots, but he knew the guards would not let him back in with his socks picking up all the dirt. 

“It’ll be a shame when winter comes.”

Link shrugged. “Winter’s not so bad. Good time to visit the Gorons.”

“Too far for me.” 

“I can understand that.”

He looked up. Gannon and Maple were staring at him. They whispered between themselves, but like most children, they were not good at it.  _ Doesn’t he have that bracelet like your Mom? No, it broke. Then who is he talking to? _

“You mind scratching behind my chin? I can’t reach it right.” 

Link looked to his side. A calico cat had her chin tilted up. Obediently, he reached his hand up to her chin and dug his short nails through her fur. She sighed in his hand, and then curled up against his leg. On its own, from memory, Link’s hand gently stroked her fur down her side. She curled into it. She soaked up the sun and the petting and the calico beamed.

“Dad, are you okay?” Gannon stood up slowly. 

Link nodded. He put a finger to his lips. He signed with his one hand. [Did you hear her say anything?]

Gannon shook his head. “Are you sure you got rid of  _ all _ the chocolate?”

[I feel fine.]

“You said you felt fine after shutting your hand in a door.” Gannon raised an eyebrow. “And that time I stole your arrow and stabbed you in the foot.”

[I forgot about that.]

“ _ How? _ ”

“Gannon, please fill me in.” Maple said, quite frustrated. “Is he okay?”

“I think he still has some chocolate poisoning.” Gannon frowned.

“Chocolate poisoning?” The cat rolled over. She sniffed his shirt. “You smell fine to me. I thought you hairless babies didn’t get chocolate poisoning.”

“I do now.” Link frowned. “It was literally a Death by Chocolate.”

“That joke wasn’t funny the first time.” Maple huffed. She drew a random shape and started filling in the gaps. It was funny the first time, and it was still funny, but she was still not happy about how the whole morning went down and refused to laugh at it.

Gannon squinted. “You’re seriously talking to the cat.” 

“Well, I’ve always talked to cats.” Link massaged between her shoulders, down her forelegs and back up to her chin. She purred under his fingers. “I guess now I just have the range of hearing to listen to them.”

“What if she’s just a special cat?” Maple sat up. “Maybe she’s the one who’s magic.”

Link pointed a finger of recognitition at Maple. He leaned over to the calico. “Is that true? Are you possibly a Hylian in disguise?”

“And lose all my beautiful fur?” The calico rolled so that her belly could take up the sun. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Little to the left.  _ Yes. _ ”

Link was okay with this. If it meant he had to give up chocolate to talk to cats, that was a trade he was willing to make. Part of him wanted to stay in this moment forever. Him, the two kids, and a cat he could talk to. Part of him wanted to tear the complex apart until he collected all the cats, and catch up on  _ years _ , no,  _ centuries _ of lost cat knowledge. He did find it odd that he turned into a wolf and now he could talk to cats-  _ what if he had both? _ This required research. 

Research. Right. Zelda should probably know about this. Link paused. “Gannon, don’t tell Zelda about this.”

“Oh,” the boy smiled. “I wasn’t gonna.”

Maple rolled her eyes. 

Link took back his hand. “If I get up, are you going to scratch me?”

The calico thought about it. “Mmm, yes. Maybe piss in your boot, too.”

Link nodded. They stayed in the garden until Lunchtime.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Zelda marched down to the Magi with her research. Just as she was about to knock on their doors, they opened. The magi waved her in. Neatly, she set her notes, her proofs, her proposals on the desk. The magi glanced over. What caught the eye was instead a doodle for design- a pawprint encased in swordsteel. 

“You would have him wear it like a charm?”

“You disagree?”

The magi grinned. “I find it  _ charm _ ing.”

“I walked into that one.” Zelda brushed the hair out of her face. “I do have another request of you.”

“I suspect that you do, for on your shoulders weigh a great many things.”

“I have not made my decision yet,” she procrastinated on her own request, “but I see fewer and fewer options present themselves. It may be the best way to accomodate everyone’s wishes.”

“Everyone will object, your highness.” The magi lifted their head. They smiled with cunning. “As intrigued as I am by this outcome, I am prone to worry. I hear your concerns and your reasoning, and I am at your command. What do you require of me, oh daughter of the goddess?”

“A mask.”

  
  


Nevri hustled down the hall so not to miss her. He had been trying to keep up with the swift-paced princess all morning. It was a chain of  _ have you seen her? _ followed by gestures of those who have seen a storm pass them over. He was getting too old for this. At least no one could make the claim of a lazy successor. 

He tried to cover up his heavy breathing as he came to the Magi’s door, but there was no lying to either of them. “Your highness,” wheeze, “good morning.”

“Is something wrong?” she raised an eyebrow. It felt like a demand for privacy, mostly because it was one. 

“Well aside from being at war, sharing a guest room with the enemy and the overall chaos,” the councilman’s face fell with every mention, “no, I don’t suppose there is.” 

“Riveting.” mused the Magi. “Do you intend to help with any of this mess, then?”

Nevri stood himself up. “We decided I was best suited to aide the Princess in her endeavours. We understand that in our current predicament, she is limited in her resources and assets. I stand to serve as a bridge, one with good sense and an amiable nature, to enable her.”

The Princess folded her arms and narrowed her expression. She said nothing. 

“Your highness,” Nevri pleaded, “we know you are capable of helping your people, but with the way things are now you are inevitably tangled up with the Hero’s mess. He cannot serve his duty now, no matter how many adjustments and accomodations we make. We do not want to facilitate his madness, but we cannot afford to clip your wings. You must see the reason in this.”

“I do.” Zelda softened her stance. “I also see the threat of being entirely within debt to the council.”

“The aid I provide is only for the benefit of our people, your highness. If you can prevent loss of life and property, there is no debt.”

The Magi raised an eyebrow. Zelda blinked. She was thinking. Nevri was tempted to add to his thoughts, talk about how the council was designed to support the Throne, for them to work cooperatively, but he remembered the advice. He let Zelda think. He let her finish her thoughts. It was actually his silence and resulting patience that won her over. 

“I will draw up a prototype contract,” she decided. “I will present it to the council for cooperative revision, and then if it meets the needs and expectations of both parties, then we have our deal.”

“It need not be so formal.” Nevri smiled. 

“Yes,” she kept her temper. “It does.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ato watched as the glove measured his hand and adjust itself to fit. Threads shifted and leather grew, seams tightening and unfurling as needed. Extra fabric layered on top of itself neatly. Places where the glove was thin borrowed from the layers. Ato flexed his hand. The glove did not feel tight, only close. 

“Why can’t our armour do this?!” Ato shouted. “We could just make  _ one _ set of armour for each solider, and not worry about fitting! This- why doesn’t everything do this?!”

“We don’t know how to make it.” Ko shrugged. “I mean, that’s my guess.”

“That’s the cost of war.” Lo measured out the wire, gingerly pinching it between protected fingers. The sunlight hummed in it like a bee trapped in a jar. “A lot of people die. A lot of stuff gets lost. A lot of opportunities missed. Lotsa rocks spent.”

Ato’s shoulders slumped. Tim handed him a post. Tamo measured out where the post was to stand. Ato stood it up where Tamo marked the ground. Tim held the post in place, and Ato brought down his gloved fist down onto the post. With the one strike it broke the ground and pushed the earth out from underneath it. Another strike pushed it deep enough to be steady. They stepped back. It was crooked. Ato only needed the one hand to pull it out.

“Why don’t you give me the other glove?” Tamo suggested. “I’ll get working over there. Maybe we can get this moving along. Ko, Lo, tell the guards at the gates that you two are going to need new gloves soon. I want you guys working the wire while the rest of us set up as many posts as we can.”

 “Why do we have to deal with the wire?”

“Because we can’t trust you with the gloves.” Ato laughed. 

“The wire is arguably worse.” Ko smirked. “Maybe he’s got a pair that will make this stuff easier to handle.”

Lo paused. He had a thought. “He did tell us where his room  _ is _ .”

The rest of the group slowly came to the same thought. Ato and Tim shook their heads vehemently. “Oh no. Nah. We’re not playing with fire like that.”

Tamo scratched his chin. “It  _ is _ a bad idea.”

Ko beamed. “If anything is going to prepare us for running around with that madman, it’s gonna be breaking into his room.”

“It’s just a bedroom,” Lo shrugged. “I mean, we go in, get stuff, get out, fill out a report for it.”

“If you think that room is going to be A. easy to get into and B. easy to  _ sort through _ ,” Tim stopped. He looked at Ko and Lo. “You know what? Go for it.”

“What?”  
“Go ahead.” Tim picked up another post and measured out the distance. “Far be it from me to keep you alive when common sense is the only cure. Go for it. He’s on medical leave, so he should be _sleeping in it too._ Go ahead! You thought he was scary in the barracks? Sleepwalkin’ and all that? Your funeral.”

Tamo nodded. “You’re right. We’ll have to ask him, first.”

Ko and Lo stared at Tim, then at Tamo, then back to Tim. “No one asked you to give him ideas.”

 

Instead of reserving a spot at the card tables, they (Tamo) decided to pay Link a visit (and therefore they all had to go). It took a good minute of records checking to see that they  _ did _ have reasonable cause to visit him, rank flexing to see that they had  _ the right to _ , and explaining that it was  _ due diligence _ to be escorted into the castle to see him. When they finally found a guard able to leave their post to escort them, it felt like a victory. They signed the records the guards kept at the door. 

A short walk took them to the library with its grand doors and additional records. Of course, the squadron did not have their own Castle Library Recordbooks, and so passes that said they could enter, but not take books, had to be made. That took a bit. Tired, frustrated and alltogether finished with castle guards that looked down on soldiers from the compound, they went in. 

“ _ Even if you brought me all the gemstones of the kingdom, it would not be enough to buy one of my arrows,” said the Lynel. The great beast held his fire arrow up to the sunlight and it burned brighter than the moon. The Zora was awestruck. _

 

They followed the voice through the shelves. They tiptoed past red-eyed scholars, around the wide-eyed stares of the library staff. They wound futher into the library’s core where armchairs and desks were haphazardly clustered together. Maple sat on the arm of a chair and half. Link lounged in the chair, trying to accomodate all of his sore bones and muscles. Gannon sat in his lap with his head on his father’s chest. Zeel hovered above them, casting them in a red moodlight like the arrow’s fire. They all peered at the watercolour pages of the picturebook. 

 

_ The Zora looked at the Lynel’s face and saw a pride the likes of which he had never seen. Though he feared the Lynel as a beast, he found in him respect of a craftsman. He knew the Lynel would never part with his arrow for trade- not for all the rubies he brought, nor for the Spear he loved.  _

 

“Then how is he going to get the arrow?!” Gannon pushed against Link’s chest with a desperation. “He  _ has _ to have it!”

“I can turn the page and we’ll find out?” Link offered. He took a good look at Gannon’s face. “Although you look pretty tired. Maybe we should stop it here and pick up tomorrow.”

“No!” Gannon and Maple cried. Maple caught herself and immediately pretended not to care. “I don’t want to hear his guesses all night.”

Tamo knocked gently on a bookshelf. The three looked up as if out of a daze, remembering they were only in a library- not on a mountain across Hyrule. Link closed the book around his finger. Tamo leaned against a table while the others sunk into chairs more comfortable than their cots. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Tamo apologized to the kids. He nodded to Link. “How are you feeling?”

Link dismissed the question with a wave of the hand. “How are the gloves; they help?”

“I can’t get Ato to take it off.” Tamo chuckled. “Says he still needs to get used to it. I swear he’s gonna take up the bed with it.”

Link raised an eyebrow with a coy smile. He nodded to Tamo’s hand. “And what’s your excuse?”

“Well, uh,” Tamo scratched the side of his nose with his ungloved hand. “Don’t want to lose it, is all. They’re well made.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” Gannon shrugged. “Power can be addictive.”

The room went cold. The squadron cast glances between one another. Tamo stared at Link. Link gently bonked Gannon over the head with the book. The boy broke into a devillish grin and giggled. Gannon’s warm laughter cracked the ice in the atmosphere. 

“Well, don’t return them to me now. You’ll still want them tomorrow.” Link looked back at the glove. “I doubt I’ll need them at the tradepost, either. I’ll get them back on Monday.”

“Actually,” Tamo leaned forward with a twinkle in his eyes. “I wanted to ask permission to break into your room.”

“How are you breaking in,” Maple leaned against the back of the chair with an excess amount of sass, “if you’re  _ asking _ for permission?”

Link slid Gannon into a corner of the chair so he could get up. He kept the book on his finger so as not to lose their place. “I’m gonna talk to the boss for a quick second, and then we’ll finish this, okay?”

Maple and Gannon nodded. Link tapped Tamo’s shoulder and he followed Link away. Maple slid into the chair to sprawl out for her comfort. Zeel turned Gannon into his Zora self, and Gannon started quoting the book. Maple quoted the Lynel. The rest of the squadron (who had also been read the story as children, many times) pitched in whenever extra cast, or line accuracy, was called for. Link and Tamo whispered behind a few shelves of books, like adults, which is to say they spoke so quietly it was almost impossible to hear one another. 

“Please don’t.” Link asked his superior. “If you need something from the armoury, I’m sure Impa will help. She knows what’s in there and what it all does.”

Tamo was surprised. “I thought you would be all for this, honestly. It sounds like an ideal training exercise.”

“Well, yeah,” Link looked to the floor. The library had grand, both in size and detail, area rugs that guided the book-eyed scholars into the right section by colour. “Between the different passages you could take up, the traps that should still work- but… Well it’s off limits. Not… in general, but certainly to me.” Link rubbed his wrist to soothe a bracelet he wasn’t wearing. “If you guys break in there it will look like I asked you to. I can’t risk that.”

Tamo folded his arms. “Isn’t it your bedroom? Aren’t those  _ your _ things?”

“It’s not really a bedroom.” Link smiled, but it was performative. “I collected so much nonsense in there that there’s no room for a proper bed. It’s really just an armoury with a bunch of stuff that I honestly should have left in the temples…”

“Where do you sleep?” Tamo sounded like a mother again. 

“Oh,” this smile was accompanied by a genuine laugh, “I reworked an old coffin? It has a false bottom and everything. I expected to outgrow it eventually but uh,” he gestured to his lack of height, “obviously I didn’t.”

Tamo ignored the entire statement. “No, where are you sleeping  _ now _ .”

“I have a cot in the medical wing?” Link shrugged. “I guess? I am on  _ medical _ leave. It makes sense. I can honestly sleep anywhere though. Not exactly an issue.”

“Except your own room.”

“And Zelda’s, obviously.”

Tamo leaned against a bookshelf. His eyes bore against Link and he couldn’t look back at Tamo. Tamo leaned past the shelf to look at Gannon. The squadron was standing around the armchair, caught up in conversation about Lynels. Maple was offering elixer ideas with their parts. Zeel was trying to keep everyone from jumping up and hunting one down. It wasn’t going well. “Didn’t her majesty mention something about clearing your name? You finished the adoption papers. What else do you need?”

“Sir,” Link tapped the book against his leg. “I really need to put my son to bed…”

“Your son who is going to need you to be  _ yourself _ .” Tamo insisted. “Not some chained up soldier. As much as I want you to stay with us, he is going to need you.”

Tamo expected anger, but there wasn’t any. Link shrunk deeper into himself. His shoulders slumped low. “I’m lucky enough, no, I’m _privilaged_ enough, to be able to have this much. I should be in a dungeon right now, awaiting an ugly execution. I’m not pushing the envelope. I can’t afford to.”

“Fine.” Tamo let his words hit hard. “Dismissed, then.”

Link turned back to the heart of the bookshelves. The weight and the posture melted off him so that he sprung back into his coy and troublesome self. He cut through the squadron, nudged Maple out of his seat, picked up Gannon and without losing the page, sunk back into the armchair. Gannon settled back into his lap with a heavy yawn. 

Tamo signalled to the rest of the squadron. They bade Link goodbye, made their new inside jokes of gestures to the kids, and filed out. Tamo filled them in. Heavyhearted, they left Link behind. 

 

_ But the Zora wouldn’t be disheartened. He still had a trick up his sleeve! He picked up a stone and he stole it out from under the Lynel’s feet. He ducked quick behind a rock before the Lynel could catch him. The Lynel took to his bow and fired an arrow to defend his territory! He fired the bow with so much power that the arrow stood straight up in the stone! _

_ The Zora jumped out and pulled on the arrow with all his strength. He held the arrow aloft. When the Lynel saw the Fire Arrow in the Zora’s hands, he realized he had been tricked! The Zora ran for the lake as fast as his feet could carry him.  _

_ In a fury, the Lynel swore: “I will craft a fire so hot, the flames so sharp, that no Zora will be able to hold it!” His roar poured over the whole domain, but the words were not enough to catch up to the Zora. He ran all the way home. The people of his Kingdom learned the arrow’s secrets and they celebrated their victory for six days and six nights.  _

_ The Zora would forever be unstoppable. _

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


	28. Foreshadowing

Maple groomed the bristles of her broom. She plucked the dust and twigs and coated each stick of hay with protective oils. She inspected the handle. It didn’t need a new stain, but a richer colour would be lovely. She found herself humming an old jingle. She couldn’t remember the words. Then she heard them.

 

_ When the sun has set _

_ When the campfire lights _

_ When the stars above _

_ Dance with the Mountain’s Lights _

_ When every soul marvels at Nature’s might _

_ I will marvel at you. _

 

“You’re not very good at singing.” Maple grumbled. She watched Link brush Epona with great detail, following every stroke with his hand. He glanced to Maple with a smile. 

“No,” he chuckled, “I think the voice is the one insturment I will never master.” He paused to faun over Epona. He whispered praise into her mane. “Sure you don’t want me to draw you up a horse, Maple?”

“Trade my handcrafted broom for a smelly animal?” She let the hostility roll freely off her tongue. “I don’t think so. Are you sure you want to live in the 1300’s forever?”

Link raised an eyebrow. “If you mean downgrade to an arrogant stick, then no. The 1300’s and I will stay right here with Epona.” 

“ _ My Stick. _ ” Maple stood up, taking it personally, “ _ Is not. Arrogant. _ ”

“Mine was.” Link leaned his shoulder against Epona’s. She chewed on his shirt with affection. “Every time I tried to ride it I got flipped upside down and dragged through the dirt.”

Maple dropped her stance. She had two thoughts and they came at the same time. She was surprised by them both, and wound up saying them out of order. “Your lead bristles were out of balance with your weighted bristles. You have a broom?”

“Had.”

“What happened to it?”

“Apparently my lead bristles were out of balance with my weighted ones.” Link echoed. Right, of course. He would have been able to get in the air but not much further. Maple did not want to imagine the crash, so of course she did, and she wriggled to get the discomfort out. 

Gannon finally scampered into the stable with Loamol close behind. He carried with him a pack almost as big as he was. Zeel floated about him, watching the stablehands and the staff. It was apparent what took so long- instead of the long braid that Syrup had done up, Gannon’s hair was neatly tucked against his head. If it wasn’t for the golden clips, Link would have sworn that Loamol had cut it. He made a mental note to ask Loamol to teach him her witchcraft. 

“I packed snacks!” Gannon bounced on his toes. “Lots of snacks.” 

“And perhaps too many changes of clothes,” Loamol admitted. 

Link lifted the pack off the boy’s shoulders. He curled the bag in his right hand. “And a brick for good measure?”

“Of course,” Loamol’s laughter hid within her gentle smile. She struck a formal posture, one the researchers maintained when they tried to make themselves heard. “One must always carry a brick.”

Link tethered the bag to Epona’s saddle. The horse paid the weight little mind. Her eyes were fixed on the boy. Zeel flew in between them, as if the fairy could ever frighten the Clydesdale. Link stroked her long nose. He took her by the bridle and lowered her face. He offered his hand to Gannon, who hesitantly complied. Link put his hand to Epona’s soft muzzle. It was velvet and warmth, the gentle embers of a fire in the autumn night; but her eyes were itching to devour his soul. Gannon pulled his hand back. 

“Easy, girl.” Link warned. “He’s the apple of my eye, not your mouth.”

Epona broke line of sight with Gannon. The hostility vanished on the dawn’s breeze. Instead she turned to Link and nudged her nose against his face. She nipped at his hair for her to chew on. Link started to laugh and push her back, but she knew this banter. She knew how to nibble through his defenses. 

“That’s not food and you know it.” Link scolded her, but he couldn’t keep a straight face. “You act like I don’t feed you.” 

Gannon’s laughter melted Epona. It was rich and warm, and each breath came from the belly. Maple broke into a snicker, then a full laugh. The horse took it as encouragement like a fool to a roaring audiance. She nibbled away at his hair, his collar, bullying him with her long face so that he couldn’t escape. Link could only protest for so long. He accepted the slobber and the grass breath while the others got their laughs full. He had missed her, too. 

Loamol was the first to regain her composure. “Alright, alright. While it is yet morning, let us get you into the saddle.” Loamol nudged Gannon on. She guided him to Epona’s side. A stepstool was waiting for him. She held his hand as he stepped up. She tapped his side. “Left leg up first, then throw your other leg over. Keep your knees in, and your back straight.”

Gannon took those instructions on one by one. Once he was in the saddle, Loamol coached him with gentle touches. Without words she made a nervous boy into a regal rider. They were the Gerudo, and the horse was just as much as part of their people as their seasonings. By posture, Gannon very much looked the part. He didn’t feel the part.

Zeel flew up to look Gannon in the eye. “She’s just a horse. We’ve already seen you ride bigger horses to battle. Nothing to worried about.”

“No, she’s not.” Gannon muttered. This was no warhorse, bred for Gannondorf. This was the Hero’s horse, as feral a spirit as he. She was large in name, large in legend, and her frame was only a hint of her strength. Gannon wondered what he would see if he looked at her with Power. “Fear is rational.”

Link nodded. “Well said.”

Maple prodded Link with the stick of her broom. “What do you know about fear?”

“Ah, everyone makes that mistake.” Link wore a gentle smirk, which faded into a weathered, practiced grin. “Courage is not the opposite of fear, Maple. Courage cannot exist without it. Truth is, I know fear better than anyone. It’s when I do my best work.”

That gave Maple pause. That gave her something to think about, a thought that would take several days to work it’s course. Gannon instead made a personal connection. “But, they’re opposites. Does that mean I might be at my strongest when I feel weak?”

“It is possible.” Loamol took Epona by the reigns. She led the horse out into the pacing circle. She let Gannon feel the pace, the shifting muscles underneath. “At home, our strength is our family. When we are hungry, family feeds us. When we are lost, our Ancestors guide us home. Perhaps your gift, my king, is the same. It burns brightest in the dark.”

Gannon looked to his mother. Her arms were folded neatly so that her fingers rest over her biceps. Gannon looked at Epona. They were walking freely. Gannon tapped his heels against her flanks. It felt right. She moved into the next gait. Loamol eased herself out of the ring and let the horse and rider get aquainted. 

“She does not like him.” Loamol sighed to Link. “That worries me.”

“She’ll adjust.” Link said firmly. “Or she’ll stay stabled.” 

Her posture changed. She kept her eye on Gannon but found herself measuring Link’s resolve. “Would you really abandon her here? She’s already gnawing at the posts. She craves freedom as much as you, but does not have the balm of companionship.”

Link shifted under her glare. “If it comes to that, I’ll send her to LonLon. They’d see to it that she’s well cared for.”

“Another prison?”

“A prison we escaped when we were young in a single bound.” Link couldn’t hide his pride in it. Instead he shifted their attention. “Gannon, bounce with her. Don’t go any faster until you have the rhythm of it.” 

Maple watched him ride. It looked natural for him, even if he did look a bit lost. “We stopped at LonLon on the way to the castle. They’re nasty people. Impa and Ghirahim had to threaten them so we could eat.”

“Hm.” Link kept his eyes on Epona. “I’ll have to make it up to them.”

Zeel coached Gannon, keeping his flight in pace with the horse. With encouragement from the fairy, Gannon finally accepted tapping into his own memories. He remembered riding to war, tearing through the Hylian countryside. The lights poured over Epona’s mane. She could feel the shift in his weight. He stood in her saddle. He nudged her on with his heels and she snapped from a gentle pace into a restrained canter. His knees bent, he leaned into her turns. They picked up speed. They flowed together into one ripple of motion. Riding was in his blood. 

“Ugh.” Maple rolled her eyes. She tapped her broom against the dust, leveled it and hopped into its balance. She had a cool ride, too. “That’s just cheating.”

“You think  _ that’s _ cheating?” Link scoffed. He was the one who had insisted that they ride Epona to the Tradepost, and that Gannon had to learn to ride, but found himself swallowing jealousy with  _ anyone _ riding Epona but him. “Wait until he comes into his Power. You won’t believe the things he can do.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ratal was admittantly winded. He followed his mentor along the Great River until they reached the tiny, stone bridge to cross to the other side. A small smoke spiraled from the cottage on stilts. Even though they were so close, his mentor did not stop the Postman Jog. He kept up the pace right to the door. Ratal fought to do the same. 

“Don’t worry,” his mentor beamed at him with encouragement and divinity. “Your body is yet weak. As it becomes a true Postman, it will get over it.”

Ratal nodded with slight delerium. The hotpants were riding up on him. He did not realize that pants that were already so high up could ride up any further. He had given up on adjusting them three miles into the delivery and had settled into a higher plane of discomfort. The mentor had pretended not to notice. Instead he knocked on the door boldly, rapidly, thrice. 

“Enter at our own damn risk.” A woman’s voice whipped from inside. The mentor feared no man, and apparently no woman either. He turned the doorknob and entered with the same brisk, upbeat pace. Ratal drifted in behind him like a bag caught on a breeze. 

“A letter for you,” the mentor announced, “from the Hylian Palace.”

From behind a couldron stood a mountain of a woman with her eyes sunken in like open wounds to frame the bridge of her nose. Much of her mountinous frame came from the many shauls she had collected over her shoulders. Her hair was tied back, or at least that had been the plan. Much of it hung over her face anyway. Her cottage tasted like brillaince that had aged poorly into detatchment. 

“A  _ letter _ ?” She snapped. She snatched it from his hands. The mentor bowed with utmost plesantness. “Hold, postman. I will be returning the favour.”

The mentor nodded. He turned to Ratal. “This is a fine opportunity to tell you about this clause. The person who the letter is addressed to has the right to ask you to wait for a reply. They have half an hour to pen a response before we are pressed to leave. In these cases, the returning letter has priority over the next letter in your list, as it is considered the same delivery.”

Ratal nodded. He had up to thirty minutes to catch his breath, and that was all he heard. His heart was ready to burst, but that was fine. The muscles around his heart had been beaten into the rhythm and the blood would keep flowing. 

Syrup bent over the paper. She was frozen in time while she absorbed the words. For five minutes, almost exactly, she stared at the page in silence. It only had three sentances on it. She was a true mountain of bones and fabric, still as the Goron Ridge. Then she lurched into action. Her bones dragged the fabric through reality to fetch her own writing. She shuffled through a drawer and pulled out a vial of dark fluid. It bubbled. It had scales in it, and some unidentifiable things. She dipped her quill in it. She wrote furiously. She didn’t bother to dry the ink. She didn’t fold it neatly into the envelope. Instead she crammed it in, sealed it with glue that pulled like melted cheese, and shoved it back into the mentor’s hands. 

“Do not open it.” She wore a manic grin. Deep in her wounds that were her eyes, starlight twinkled like a prisoner. 

“We take care not to.” The mentor bowed again. “Anything else that needs to be delivered?”

She scattered her eyesight over the kitchen. “Yes, yes, there is, there is. Where is it. Where… yes. Yes, here.” The witch snatched a jar from under her sink and shook it. Pale-white hair drifted in a loose gelatin. She twirled around her kitchen, snatched up a handmade label and slapped it onto the side of the jar. 

“Do not forget the box for safe transit, Lady Syrup.” The mentor politely reminded her. She wagged a finger in recognition, reached into her cupboard, and unfolded one of the boxes she had saved up. She taped up the box with a few ounces more tape than necessary. She scribbled a name on the outside. She shoved it into his hands. He gently placed the letter on top. “Thank you for your business, as always!”

She waved her hand to emotionally throw them out. The mentor nudged Ratal out onto the steps and closed the door behind him. When they had gotten back to the grass, he passed what he hoped to be the safer of two packages- the letter.  _ To Syrup, Witch of the Great Bay _ had been scribbled out and  _ That Ungreatful Bastard Link _ had been written around it. Ratal stared at the envelope. It had a pull to it. It wasn’t a colour, but he could see it. It wasn’t a texture, but he could feel it. 

“You worked in the palace, right?” The mentor tucked the package neatly into his parcelbag. “It’s easier to follow the pull if you have met the person before. There are some folks who send letters so frequently sometimes you can find them  _ without _ a letter, just because you remember them.”

“I don’t know him personally,” Retal rubbed his thumb against the edge of the letter. It jostled the pull of it, like squinting to read fine print. “But we’ve met.”

“That will be helpful enough. This letter is on you to deliver then,” the mentor announced. “It’s best to start with someone you know. Easier to follow, eaiser to get the hang of. Alright, let’s stretch!”

They did their leg stretches, their core stretches, their back stretches. They ran in place for exactly three seconds (Ratal did it for 3.2, but it was a notable improvement over his 3.8) and then they were off. The Mentor encouraged Ratal to take the lead and follow the letter. The closer they got, the more he followed it’s pull, the easier it became to hear. After a mile he was hot on the trail and leading with a good pace. The mentor was proud to be coaching such a fine Postman. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Aren’t we stopping at LonLon Ranch?” Maple watched the fences roll up over the hills. She didn’t exactly  _ want _ to go there, but she did want to look at the horses. She also wanted to know what reaction Malon would have this time. She could also do with a second breakfast. 

“Not today.” Link sat backwards on Epona, leaving Epona to handle the directions. He was busy stringing his bow. Gannon was hunched forward, hoping to will Epona faster. She was paying him no mind. “Today we are playing a game of I Spy.”

Maple was about to object, but Gannon was immediately invested. He leaned against Link’s back and looked at the sky. “I…. spyyy… something rough.”

Link scanned the horizon. “Tree bark?”

Gannon beamed. “Your turn!”   
“I spy with my eye, something  _ rumbly _ .” Link pulled an arrow from his hip strung his bow. He watched the heavens. Gannon searched the sky where Link was looking, but couldn’t figure it. He looked to the ground. The grass was calm and glistening in the dew. Maple glanced about her, around the field, at the ranch they were passing by. Then she looked to the horizon. Slowly falling behind them were the Goron Mountains, and Death Mountain at the core of their territory. Around it’s peak the clouds churned and thundered. 

“Death Mountain.” Maple announced. She flew a little higher from the horse so she could see over the hills. The pillar of the market was barely visible against the hazy blue of the morning sky. She saw how the Ranch was positioned to their left, and the Death Mountain behind them to their right. “Does that make it my turn?”

“Yup!” Gannon chirped. “What do you see?”

Maple looked about for a waypoint. There were so many trees that scattered across the landscape. It was hard to find something that was fixed on the landscape that was easy to spot. “I spy with my little eye, something that glows.”

Link furrowed his brow. He drew his bow and searched the landscape for anything that glowed down the scope of the arrow’s shaft. He stood in the stirrups so he could see in front. Gannon and Link saw it at the same time. They had remarkably different reactions. 

“There!” Gannon pointed it out. “...What is it?”

“Hey Maple,” Link cast her a knowing look. “You’re pretty bored of this, huh?”

She nodded. “It’s a baby game.”

Gannon took this personally. Link eased the arrow out of his bow and put it between his teeth. He turned around on Epona and took the reigns. “Hey Gannon, you know Maple thinks that Epona can’t measure up to a stick.”   
“That’s dumb.” Gannon laughed. “Doesn’t Maple know this is the fastest horse in Hyrule?”

“I don’t think she does. Think she might fancy a race? What do you say Maple?” We need to go. We need to get out of here. I do not want to startle him. 

“Oh please,” Maple rolled her eyes. “She’s  _ just a horse _ . I bet I could carry Gannon and still beat you to the lake-shore. Fifty rupees.”

“You don’t have fifty rupees.” Gannon laughed. She winked back at him. She lowered her broom to be level with Epona. “I’m about to. Come on, crybaby. Get on.”

“I’m not a crybaby.” Gannon grumbled. Link helped steady him so he could cross from Epona’s saddle onto the back of the broom. “You’re just terrible at flying this thing.”

“Start at the glowing thing?” Link raised an eyebrow at Gannon. “If I wait for you less then five minutes at the Zora gate, you’ll get fifty rocks each.”

Gannon looked at Maple with currency in his eyes. She felt it in her blood. Looking at Link she knew he meant it. This was the thrill of gambling, wasn’t it? She glanced at the glowing structure. She didn’t know what it was. It was old, like rubble, covered in moss... 

Link whispered in Epona’s ear. She reared, whinnied with all her might like a Lynell’s roar. They crossed paths with the glowing structure. Maple leaned into her broom and channeled all of her spirit through it. She took off like a bullet from a sling. She almost didn’t hear the beeping behind her. 

As they past the guardian, the quiet morning split around the sound of the light, and the smoke from the trees choked the clarity of the morning air. Gannon looked back. Link wasn’t racing with them. He couldn’t look away. 

“He’ll catch up.” Maple assured him over the wind. “Look, the spire. We’re almost there. That hundred rupees is as good as ours.”

Gannon buried his face into the back of her shirt.  

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Ratal came to a sliding halt. His shoes kicked up dust from the road. His mentor grabbed him by his uniform. Ratal couldn’t look away. His mentor assumed that he was in shock, that he was frozen from fear. Ratal reached for his back. Instead of a spear there was a pennent with the Mail Flag flying from it. It would have to bloody do. 

“What are you doing?!” his mentor hissed, “Leave it!”

Ratal slapped the letter into his mentor’s mailbag. He drew his pennent. At the top was a decorative spike of bronze. It would have to do. He dropped into his form and he watched the momentum of the fight. He dodged behind a bush, then a tree, and he quickly worked his way around the enemy. It helped that the enemy was so well distracted. 

Ratal waited for Guardian to fire it’s beam. He rushed forward and swung up one of it’s extended legs. The Postman’s shoes were made for running, so they were thin, but their grips were unmatched. He balanced on the one leg. The eye of the Guardian needed at least a second to recover from the blast and another two to aim. 

“Hey, Cyclops!” Ratal’s voice cracked. “Look at this!”

The Guardian swong its head around to meet him. Cooldown finished. The automaton locked on to Ratal. With the brass end first, he plunged the pennent into the eye of the Guardian. The eye didn’t break. Instead the brass slid to the side and jammed in the joint of the eye. The Guardian started beeping to fire. 

Ratal was hit in the side with a heavy branch. He fell off the leg. He hit the ground and as the Guardian screeched about a malfunction (in its weird beeping, shrill manner) it fired the lazer into the treetops. The eye was bent so that it couldn’t aim forward anymore. The pennent caught fire. The wood and the flag burned. The Guardian swiveled its head in circles, forward and back, waving the flaming stick about. 

Link ran out from his cover, pulled a bomb, and rolled it under the Guardian. He bolted past the bomb, grabbed Ratal by his arm to his feet. He threw Ratal behind another tree. Disarmed, Ratal was greatful to hide. Link drew his arrows and fired into the gap between the bent eye and the socket. As his arrows passed through the flames they buried the fire deep inside the machine. The beeping and screeching sped up, wailed, and then stopped suddenly. Link backed up, hid behind the tree with Ratal, and bent both of their heads down. 

The Guardian blew. Parts and pieces exploded from the automaton. Small fires started in the grass, on a couple of small bushes, and smouldered under the defeated machine. Link rolled to his feet and started putting them out. He waited for the broken pieces, the nuts and the bolts, to cool before picking them up. He climbed over the automaton and pried the eye from its socket. The bronze piece of the pennet was melted and bent, but still recognizable. He reached further to find any parts in the machine that were still salvagable, still in functional shape. He slipped down the outside and whistled. Epona trotted back onto the path. He loaded up her bags. 

Ratal got up and dusted himself off. Remarkably, his uniform was wrinkled but otherwise fine. His pennent was not so lucky. He would probably get points off for that. He patted himself down- not on fire and aside from a few bruises, fine. At least he had succeeded there. 

“Excuse me,” Ratal trotted up in proper form to Link. He bowed briefly as he was taught (it was a different bow from being a Guardsman, in some strange and subtle ways). “I have a letter for you.”

Link blinked. The mentor ran up, handed the Junior his mailbag, who then fished it out the letter for Link. He glanced at the handwriting and decided not to open it right away. “You’re Ratal, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“The new uniform suits you. You can press out the wrinkles with a warm stone, if needed. You okay?” 

“I am, thank you.”

The mentor, however, was nowhere near as calm. He was not frightened, no, there were few things in the world that could frighten an experienced postman nowadays. “Juniour Postman! That was  _ reckless _ , and you could have  _ damaged the mail _ !”

Ratal took a deep breath. “Do we not have a duty to the people of Hyrule?”

“Yes!” The mentor struck him with two fingers over the head. “To deliver the mail! To report incidents! To get others out of the way if they are spotted in a dangerous situation! You left the life of a Guard behind, rookie, and you’re a  _ postman _ now. You follow  _ our rules _ ,  _ our laws _ .”

Ratal looked to Link, but Link only mounted the horse. “I can’t defend you on this one. You’re lucky that didn’t go terribly. If I die it’s fine, but I’m sure your old mates would hate to hear that you died to something avoidable. Leave the stupid stunts to me, alright?”

The junior postman sighed. “I apologize for my actions.”

“You bet you do,” the mentor screeched,  “and you’ll be apologizing again when we get back to Headquarters! You’ll be apologizing for weeks, the way you roughed up your uniform!”

“Here,” Link tossed Ratal the melted bronze topper. He pulled on Epona’s reigns to get her to turn back toward the Tradecity. He eased her on to get some distance between them and the postmen before he kicked her into high gear. They scattered the dust and the dirt to the winds.

The mentor snatched the piece out of Ratal’s hands. “ _ I’ll _ hold onto this, thank you. Jog in place, three seconds, come on let’s go. We still have more deliveries to do!”

 

Link rode like the wind. As he rose over the hills he searched for Gannon and Maple. He didn’t see them. He didn’t see any threats either, but he still worried. Epona slowed without his say-so. They were already at the gate of the Zora’s Tradepost. She dropped from a gallop to a canter to a trot, and promptly started chewing on some reeds at the lakeshore. She triumphantly whistled her own song. She did this in Link’s ears, intentionally. 

Link slid out of her saddle. He unbundled her bags and slung them over his shoulder. He grabbed Gannon’s bag too. He petted her long nose and she wandered off to her delight. He plucked up one of the reeds to call her back later. He walked up onto the ramp, only to turn back and shout, “Don’t do anything I would do.” She whinnied in response. He could hear the sarcasm in her tone. 

At the top of the ramp stood Maple and Gannon, chatting with the gaurds. Maple had a sadistic victory for a smile. Gannon was just relieved. Link mirrored Gannon’s expression to the third power. The kids were fine. They had made it fine. Now, for Maple’s sake, he had to look upset. He was down on the money. To pay a hundred rupees and the kids be okay was more than a bargain. 

“You kept us  _ waiting. _ ” Maple sneered. “I’ll be good and wait until we’re behind doors to count the money.”

Link blinked through the statement. “Oh really. How professional of you, gambler.”

She took no offense. She shrugged instead. Gannon (or Eko, rather) ran up and hugged his leg. Link petted his head for comfort. He turned over Gannon’s bag and helped him adjust it so it didn’t drag on the ice. “What was that thing?”

“Walking money.” Link raised an eyebrow. “Did you sign in with the guards?”

Gannon and Maple nodded. Link walked over to the book and signed himself in, taking care to use his actual name and not the triforce signature. The guards still glared at him. Maple took Gannon by the hand and led the way. The marketplace was as busy as ever. The two were chittering about what they would be learning about the market first, whether it was how to sniff out a good deal or how to stop a cheating trade. Link, however, was focused on making sure he didn’t lose them in the crowd. It was more effort than he anticipated. 

By the time they made it to the spire Link’s eyes were strained from the light and the sharp turns the kids would make. They had darted from stall to stall the entire trip. Link had noticed how the guards patrolling the ice had kept an eye on them. Link did not want to start a fight with the guards. He hoped they didn’t give him reason. They shuffled down the stairs to the lower levels. 

After a long trip down many, many steps, they finally came to the door of the royal court. Maple and Eko-Gannon bowed to the guards. They struck up pleasant greetings. Spears came down when Link approached them.

“He’s with us.” Eko announced. “He’s coming in.”

The guards gave him that  _ We’re keeping an eye _ . Link kept himself on his better behaviour. He bowed to them as a commoner should, and followed the kids inside. The door split like a waterfall before them. 

They marched up to the thin moat of the coutroom where the glittering water crossed the central path. Link kneeled. Eko-Gannon and Maple genuflected, but instead of staying in place to follow Link’s lead, they ran right up to Prince Sidon and the Queen. The Queen took Maple and sat her in her lap. Sidon rest a hand on Eko’s shoulder and offered him chocolates, which the boy accepted with his face. 

“And who the hell are you?” the Queen hissed. Link was cut to the quick. He did his best not to show it, but his shoulders slumped and gave him away. “The Link I know never bothered with stuffy manners. Get up. You’ll give the children the wrong impression.  _ Chsa _ .”   
“Forgive me, your majesty.” Link got to his feet. “I never meant to cause any confusion.” 

“Oh, is that right?” She sat back in her throne. “It seems you’ve caused a great deal of trouble since you ran off. Actually, it seems you’ve caused a fuss and a half with my gaurds. They are still looking for you, you know. Since you  _ decided to steal some of my wall. _ ”

“Ah-” Link put up a finger to explain, but she did not allow it. 

“Damn clever,” she grinned, “but you should have  _ asked me _ . You may be a criminal

to your not-quite-father-in-law but this is a different court and we have different laws. He can make demands all he wants but I am not turning over my jester. Oh no.”

“I apolo-”

“But what I  _ cannot _ understand is why you thought  _ red _ was a good idea.” She gestured strongly to Eko. “I  _ know _ you didn’t think this through, so I will not accuse you of slander, but I know you have at least half a brain left in that skull of yours.”

“Oh-” He looked at Sidon, and then at Eko, and realized his mistake. “Your Highness-”

“And on top of all of it,” she continued, “you didn’t even send a  _ letter _ .”

Link waited to speak. Instead he let out a sigh. She raised her brow at him. When she didn’t speak for a moment he finally gathered up his breath. “Please for-”

“I won’t  _ hear of it, _ ” she cut him off again. Link hung his head and broke into a chuckle. It was partly stress, partly the joke, and partly wanting to escape. “You want to explain to me what Princess Zelda is telling me about you needing rest? What’s all this about you needing to recover? I know it wasn’t my Eko who hurt you.”

“No, your majesty.” Link sighed. “It was… a misunderstanding. It won’t happen again. I am fine, she only worries overmuch.”

“You are a terrible liar.” The queen narrowed her eyes. “Though perhaps that is for the best. You cause enough trouble as it is. I could only imagine what would happen if you got away with all of it. No matter. You will stay in our guest suite for the duration. I won’t insist you see our medics, there’s no sense in wasting my breath. I will however see to it that you rest in our hottubs. If anything can set you to rights, they can. If I see you causing any trouble for yourself I will have you brought back down to our quarters and ground you like the child you pretend to be.”

“Yes, your majesty.” He didn’t have anything to add. Maple was snickering. The queen did nothing about it. She was smiling, but not like Maple was. She was smiling like a mother who was relieved her baby had come home. 

“Now tell me, dear, why didn’t you come to us that night?” The queen spoke softly. 

Link spoke with his hands first. [I couldn’t.]

“Don’t lie to me, boy.” The queen strengthened her voice. “You could have come to us. You could have gone to the Gorons. You know your Brothers would fight to the death for you. Kakariko Village has had the  _ worst _ posters up ever since you left, ensuring that no one would confuse their precious Hero for the demon the Hylian Castle was making you out to be. And don’t you dare stand here in front of the boy and convince him that you had no one to turn to. That’s not going to stand in my court. Did you think you were the only one who saw your own mother in her? You’d be more daft than I thought.”

“Loamol is nothing like my mother.” It came suddenly. There was an acidity in his tone. He still did not look the Zora Queen in her eye. “...Your majesty.”

“There you are,” she cooed. “It has been too long, Link. Don’t let it happen again. What’s your plan now?”

“He doesn’t make plans.” Maple recited. The queen put a finger over the girl’s lips. Maple felt the pressure stronger than any warning Syrup had give her. The queen said nothing. Instead she turned her eyes back to Link. 

“Princess Zelda has taken charge of heading their education.” Link said. The queen already knew this. She didn’t interupt him. “As this is a connection they had made on their own, she insisted that it be an education maintained. A personal persuance carries more weight than any assigned book could fathom. I support the decision. I want them to have the most of the situation, and the Hylian Library has more knoweldge and depth than I could remember on my own.”

“Not your short term plans. Every tongue whispers what already is.” The queen looked at the boy. Eko squirmed in place under her gaze. Sidon assured him. She looked back to Link. “Have you made your decision?”

Link nodded. He put his hands in his pockets. That was enough for her to understand. She echoed his nod. She tapped Maple’s back and Maple hopped off her lap. She leaned to the side and stroked her son’s head affectionately. “My Prince, take the children and send them on their first lesson.”

“Of course, mother.” Sidon tilted into her hand, then guided the children into a formal bow to the Queen. They scurried out of the room. Gannon kept his eyes on Link. He felt like he was leaving his father to fry. Sidon urged him out of the room, and the door closed behind him. 

They remained in silence for a while. Link took a deep breath. He didn’t want to say it. Once he said it, it was real, and it was decided. She understood. 

“There may be other options, yet.” The queen whispered. “Have you considered them?”

“Some.” 

“And?”

He took a moment to phrase his heartbeats into words. “The cycle had gone on long enough. If… If I do this half-heartedly, it will only end badly. I know their declerations. I know what they whisper between themselves. I can’t even blame them. I get it. I see what they see. All the more reason that I have to put my all into winning for Hyrule a permanent peace.”

It was she who fell quiet this time. 

He offered up a fake smile. “I can see a Hyrule that has true peace. I can see a Hyrule where his people are just as interwoven as the Alliances that stand now. She deserves that much. Imagine, your majesty,” she could feel the mourning in his voice, “a Hyrule that doesn’t  _ need _ Courage.”

  
  



	29. First Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: Sexual Context in the last scene. Link + Sidon, Cut to black. The full scene is uploaded separately in Father of Courage: Redacted.

The door to the royal court closed behind them. Sidon set his hands on the shoulders of the Capable children. He had a twinkle in his eyes. He knelt down to speak with them at their own height. “I hope you kids went to bed on time last night.”

Gannon nodded. Maple gave more of an  _ eeehhh _ . 

“You kids have a big day today.” Sidon reached into a pouch on his side. He tucked something small into his large hand. “If you two want to learn how to be powerful merchants, then the most comprehensive way to learn is to do it. So, while you are here on weekends, you’ll be running a shop up on the market floor alongside everyone else.”

Their eyes shot up. Maple bounced on her heels. “Really? Where?”

Sidon shrugged. “That’s up to you.”

“So…” Gannon’s smile grew over his face. His Zora teeth flashed in the soft light of the palace. “We get to pick anywhere we want, and be merchants?”

“Ha! You make it sound easy.” Sidon stood up. “Your task today is to get for yourselves a place you can set up your shop on weekends. You’ll be going up on your own to find one and get the legal rights to operate in that space.”

Gannon and Maple blinked. They looked to one another. “ _ How? _ ”

“Is there like.. A form?” Maple scratched her head. “Or like, a business guild thing to register with?”

“Each plot is assigned a deed, and each deed is declared by days. Some are permanent deeds. Some are temporary deeds.”

“How much do they cost?” Gannon thought about the fifty rupees Link had given him for winning the race to the Trademarket. “Twenty rupees?”

“Depends on the space. Once you get going it will start to make more sense to you. Here, I can give you another lesson today, also. Connections matter. Networks matter. Knowing the right people is half the job. Thankfully for you two, you know  _ me _ . Today, I’m giving you an investment so you can get started.”

He opened his hand. There lay a small blue stone, no bigger than Gannon’s nose. It was the shape of a raindrop, and had pink and purple streaks that ran from the bottom and thinned out before they reached the top. Maple raised an eyebrow, but Gannon was immediately smitten with it. The gemstone caught the soft light of the hall in its prisms and scattered faint red lights all through Sidon’s hand. Gannon scooped it up and the twinkling reds and pinks filled his palm. 

“So we need to trade that to get a space in the marketplace?” Maple watched Gannon fall deeper and deeper in love with the sparkling stone. 

“That’s the rough idea, yes.” Sidon smiled. He folded his arms. “Also I have another gift for you. The craftsmen were not able to make a pendant for your fairy Eko,  _ Eko do you hear me? _ ”

“. . . Yeah.” Gannon spoke to the stone. Zeel came out of his pocket. He looked to Gannon, then to Sidon, and shrugged. Sidon reached back into his pouch and pulled out a silver scale. It was the same size as the others, but it was adorned differently. Instead of a pendant, it was a shield. 

Zeel flew into Sidon’s hands and tried it on. He ducked behind the scale-shield. He noticed that it was cut so that there were a couple of divets in the sides. He slung it onto his back. It fit neatly around his wings. It wasn’t full range of motion, but it wasn’t a burdern to fly. Zeel was dutifully impressed. 

“Excellent.” Sidon beamed. “It seems it suits you.”

“Thank you.” Zeel bowed. Sidon couldn’t tell, seeing only a bobbing red light. “This is a great help, your highness.”

Maple nodded. She checked her own necklace to make sure she was wearing hers. She beamed. “Does this mean we get to use the port to get back to the surface instead of the stairs?”

Sidon nodded. “Just down the hall. Look for a round, silver door in the ice. The guards will open it for you.” 

Maple wrapped her arm around Gannon. His eyes would not leave the stone. She escorted him down the hall. “We’ll be back before you know it, Uncle Sidon. We’ll have the best spot in the house!”

“I look forward to it.” The prince waited for them to turn around the bend in the hall. He waved over a guard from the stairs and passed it on for the kids to be watched over, but not disturbed. Today was going to be a hard lesson for them. Despite Maple’s optimism, Sidon did not expect them to succeed. He told himself to get to his paperwork. As much as he wanted to eavesdrop on the conversation his mother was having with Link, he knew the gossip would reach him soon enough. 

 

 “Hey,  _ Eko _ .” Maple nudged him. “If you don’t put it away before we go through the door to the lake you’re gonna drop it like you did the lyre.” 

That snapped him out of it. Gannon passed it to Zeel to hold. He snapped his pocket shut over him. “Hey, I didn’t mean to drop the Lyre! We just  _ fell into a bay! _ ”

Maple rolled her eyes. She double-checked the pocket to make sure it was secure. She checked her own bags. Everything was in order. “Well, now that Zeel has a scale we can go down there and get it.”

 They scuttled up to the silver door. It was low on the wall. It led to a chamber that was clear, jetting out from the palace into the dark lake beyond. There was another door outside. The guards saluted the children. “Ready to go?”

Maple gave them the thumbs up. “We’ve got a market to conquer!”

One guard opened the door and held it open. The kids climbed in. The other guard climbed in with them. It was a little cramped. The hall-standing guard locked the pod behind them. 

“Are you coming with us?” Gannon let his disappointment come through his tone. He had thought they would be free to explore, not babysat. 

The guard only laughed. “Oh no. You’re all on your own. I’m just here to show you how to open the outer door. Pull this latch, turn the wheel, there you go, and push with all you’ve got.”

Maple had the lever first. The two kids needed to work together to turn the wheel. It was stiff and needed a greasing. Gannon, however, had the shoving all in one shoulder. He didn’t need the Triforce of Power to barrel through a door. His Zora frame actually lent well to brute strength. The water of the lake rushed in. Gannon and Maple instinctively took in a heavy breath of air. The water slapped against their face and it  _ stung _ . Their lungs let go of the emergency air-gulp. Maple’s eyes shot open in a panic. Gannon just rubbed his face. He was more accustomed to breathing in the water. He held her hand and tapped to his chest.  _ Right, the scale. _ Maple shut her eyes, opened her mouth, and breathed. 

And she was fine. The guard gave her a thumbs up. “Alright kids, I have one last instruction.” 

“What?” Maple garbled. The water carried her voice like a bubble on a sheet of rubber. She laughed at the sound of it. 

“Big and serious.” The guard called their attention. “We’re not the only ones who live in the lake. Be careful. If you feel you’re being watched, get out. Either go topside, or come to a door. There’s guards no matter where you go, and we’ll help you. Okay?”

Gannon stared at the darkness below them. “There’s something big down there.”

“There might be. Best way not to find proof is to keep your hands to yourself.” The guard nudged them out of the door. They hung in the water. Maple now realized that everything in her bag was wet, and so were all of her clothes. She wished that she had worn a bathing suit instead of her regular dress. “Go straight topside and you’ll be just fine.” 

The guard closed the door behind them. He closed the latch. The water drained out of the glass pod and the other door unlocked. The guard let him out. The kids were alone in the water.

“You weren’t guessing, were you Gan?” Maple whispered. Her voice echoed around her as the current spun about them. “You feel something, don’t you?”

Gannon nodded. “Let’s get out of the water.” 

Maple agreed. 

They swam in silence. The brightest thing in the lake was the Zora Palace itself. From the outside they could see it for the iceburg it really was. It’s spiralling shape balanced the entire weight of the marketplace above. It was tethered to the stone cliff-faces under the water to keep it from drifting. All along the outsides were barnicles and coral reefs, dug into the ice. The palace made the water cold. Maple swam harder to keep herself warm. Gannon found himself wondering what time of morning it was. They swam upward, subconciouslly following the spiral of the palace. That was by design. 

Schools of irrodescent fish parted around them. Some of the coral held the world together. Some waved in the gentle waters. As they approached the surface the clusters of upside-down lakebed along the bottom of the palace’s surface bubbled and brimmed with life. There were more colours than the kids had names for. Fish large and small, many things not fish at all, wove through the dense forest of colour. Without a word, the kids decided that this was their favourite view in all of Hyrule. 

The cold got to them. Embedded in the collective sealife they found an ice tunnel, with a ladder peeking out from the inside. Gannon led Maple to it, and they climbed up out of the lake. Cold, soaking wet, and standing in the early autumn air, the two kids swore to take the stairs on the way back. The guards passed them towels. 

“Stand here.” One stepped out of a circle, a ritual drawn in the ice. “This will help.”

Gannon stared at the circle. He knew it was magic. That much was obvious. He squinted his thoughts at the markings and the script. He couldn’t read it. The characters were familiar and he knew the spell was  _ correct _ , he only couldn’t figure correct  _ for _ . Maple didn’t waste time. She stepped into the circle. Water dripped off her clothes and her hair and the circle activated. It glowed a brilliant orange. Around Maple formed a bubble. It lifted her off the ice. She floated inside. Her hair lifted around her in large waves and curls. She closed her eyes. Her muscles relaxed. The bubble fogged. The water clung to the bubble, and after a whole moment, the bubble eased her back to her feet and  _ popped _ . Maple was warm, dry, and hesitant to leave the circle. 

“Gan, you  _ have _ to try this.” Maple’s eyes glittered like starlight. She turned to the guard and pulled on his armour.  “What spell is this?”

“You’ll have to find someone willing to sell you the proper method.” The guard smirked. “Eko, ready to step in?”

Gannon shook his head. He stared at the circle. “Im okay.”

“But your clothes are soaked.” Maple dragged him into the circle with her. The water on his pant-leg dripped into the spell. The orange glow formed around them both. The bubble formed and the two kids bumped together in the floating space. The heat enveloped Gannon. It was dry, sucking all the extra water off him. He, as he suspected,  _ loved it _ . It felt like home, or what home  _ ought _ to be, and that gave him more to think about than he wanted. The heat made him sleepy in the most peacable sense. He didn’t want to spend money on the spell, but he realized that if it was less than fifty rupees, he wasn’t going to be able to resist. 

The two kids stood dry, warm and soothed on the market platform. Gannon had half a mind to jump back in the lake just to activate the spell again. Thankfully Maple had already run twice, and was coming back to her senses. 

“Let’s not waste time,” she urged. She bid goodbye to the guards, and dragged him away from the spell. Just beyond the ladder port the market stalls gathered. The weekend made for a dense marketplace. The smells, both of the people in the direct sunlight and the scents of the alluring foodstalls mixed together. Maple took Gannon’s hand. She watched the flow of traffic and tucked into the crowd. Gannon make sure to hold tight this time. It helped that no one was staring at him. 

“Okay!” There was no point in shouting. Maple just tried to speak as close to his earholes as she could, while still walking ahead. “Man, I wish I could fly on my broom. That would be easier.”

“Why can’t you?” Gannon shouted back. 

“I need a permit or something?” Maple shrugged. “We’ll figure that out later. Let’s see. We want a space with a lot of people, because we wanna be seen.”

“What good is a lot of people if we can’t see around them?” Gannon looked up at all the patrons of the market. He couldn’t find any two people alike. Zora came in every colour. The Hylians were just as colourful, wearing bright clothing and some had more jewelry than Gannon had seen in his memories. Gorons had their own way of standing out. They wore garbs that showed off their muscles and their edges. The ribbons and the tassles draped about them and bells jingled as they walked. 

They all had their great flare to them, personality at a glance, but they made it impossible to see the stalls. Even if they were all in muted colours, the crowd was too dense to see where any of the smells were coming from. Even if you could track the smells down, the walking crowd was pressing so tight it was hard to cut through. Maple was weaving through the legs and hips of the people as best she could. She led with her shoulder, cleaving the crowd, but even so she got stuck on the absent-minded and the debate-locked shoppers. They worked their way to the edge and when a space opened up between the stalls they peeled out of the current. Maple and Gannon found themselves catching their breath. 

“Okay, this isn’t going to work.” Maple panted. She looked over Gannon. He was okay, but dazzled and dazed. “We need another plan.”

Gannon frowned. He opened up his pocket. He scooped Zeel out and held him in his palm. “Hey, sorry to wake you up, but I think we need your help.”

Zeel yawned. He stretched in the zora-red hand. “Whatchaneed?”

“Can you fly above us as we walk?” Gannon asked. “I know you’re tired. We just can’t get around like this. I kinda wish Uncle Sidon was with us now. He’d be able to see over everyone.”

Zeel chuckled. “That he could. Well, do you know what you’re looking for?”

The kids shrugged. “A good spot, I guess.”

Zeel flew up. There was a lot of crowding. There were a lot of food stalls. Sprawing toward the lakeshore were a lot of stalls that were all trying to sell different and special versions of the same, cheap enchantments. The more he looked, the more he felt lost- and so more at home. The marketplace was clustered into rough groups- like merchants competed against one another, and the merchants that benefited from one another partnered up side by side. Shops with Monster parts were shacked up next to Elixer shops. Some places sold fabric and dyes, with tailors right beside them. Food stalls were in every nook and cranny and block, but it wasn’t uncommon to have a butcher or an herbalist nearby. 

“Alright.” Zeel floated back down. “Have you kids thought about what you want to sell?” 

They had. They had a lot of thoughts about what they wanted to sell. The problem was that they hadn’t agreed on one. There were too many choices. There were too many things they couldn’t do on their own. Maple could do  _ some _ potions, but she didn’t have a lot of ingredients. Gannon didn’t have a lot of crafts to sell, at least, not yet. He did want to learn to enchant things, he just… had to learn how to do it first. They did their best to explain their back and forth. 

“Alright. Then what we’re going to do is find a place that doesn’t know what it’s doing either.” Zeel smiled. “We’re going to find a weird, strange place where people go just to see what’s up. From there, we can build up and figure ourselves out.”

Maple and Gannon had no idea that had ever been an option. They beamed. Zeel flew back up and peered across the market. Just as he suspected, he found a run down part of the market where the stream of patrons staggered, and the formality of shops fled from uniform quality. It was far. Zeel picked out a few landmarks to guide the children with. 

“Alright. Follow me. Stay close, and for now, try not to get distracted.”

“That’s gonna be hard in a market.” Maple admitted. 

“Yeah,” Zeel smiled. They could tell because his glow grew a little, “emphasis on the word try.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Loamol bowed to the guards, and to her surprise, they bowed back. One knocked on the back of the door, and with the Princess’ permission, they opened it. Loamol took in the space. It had much of the same decor as her bedroom, but instead it was smothered with books. Most of them she had borrowed from the Library downstairs and granted permission to keep them. The Princess lounged in a bench tucked into a grand window. Around her were many balls of paper, scrunched and tossed in any direction she pleased. 

“I just… need someone here in person.” Zelda didn’t look up from her notebook. She had a broken quill on the shelf. “I need to think out loud.” 

Loamol only bowed. That she understood. Impa was busy running different military divisions, Link was gone and her guards were stuck outside. All the people Zelda had grown accustomed to talking at were removed from the picture. She found herself a place to stand in the corner. She waited for Zelda to settle comfortably into her own thoughts. 

“The council already tried to remove Link from the picture.” Zelda started with the harder statement. From there, everything else was easier to say. “Now they want to  _ help _ me do both my job and his. It’s a short step from this room, this contract, and them using me to feed them the whole Triforce.”

Loamol tried to keep her face even. Listening to Zelda was a great deal different from listening to Link. Link explored his thoughts. Zelda hunted them. Loamol found herself rather liking it. The gerudo leaned against the bookshelf. Unlike Zelda’s other listeners, the pleasure of the moment showed up on her face. It caught Zelda in an odd way- both a distraction and an encouragement. The women shared a smile. 

“The question is  _ why _ .” Zelda waved the quill at Loamol. Their eyes locked. “There are a thousand reasons. They could want to  _ be _ us, but they know Link and I too well. I don’t think they’re masochistic. No, they just don’t want us to have it. Or… hmmm…” 

Loamol found herself brewing her own ideas. Did the council want to make their own wish? Loamol had defnitely given it thought. She had spent the last five years with two pieces of the Triforce, the idea of requesting a wish had  _ not _ passed her over. She realized that she never made up her mind what she would ask for- there was no way a table of elderly men would be able to make that decision. 

Zelda left that thought hanging in the air. “I neglected to put the last bracelet on Gannon yet, because I am uncomfortable with the Council having the ability to track him without our ability to protect him. That, and I realize I am not ready to have a child with the ability to interrupt my thoughts at a whim.”

Loamol stifled a laugh. Zelda cracked into a smile with her. Zelda threw down her clipboard and her quill onto the floor. She gazed out the window. Loamol looked at her paper. There was plenty written, but it was all scribbled out. 

“They’re scared.” Zelda sighed, empathy melting over her face. “I understand that. They see us being more united than ever, and they feel threatened. Having Link…  _ openly _ defy is terrifying on its own. As they see it, I did the same. We’re not people to them, Loamol. We’re forces. They think we’ve forsaken them.”

Loamol wanted to sit beside her, hold her hand. She thought better of it. She watched the princess stare out the window at the people training below. For the weekend, many of the different squadrons were playing harder to make up for the stress of the week. After Link’s performance, the training square was a busy place. 

“We have an old rule, Loamol.” Zelda didn’t look away from the window. “Link and I; we’ve always said ‘Hyrule First’. Before anything, we have put Hyrule’s well-being before our own. Link broke that rule. He thinks he hasn’t. He keeps telling himself he’s doing it for the people- both ours and yours. Deep down he knows the truth. He’s not serving Hyrule anymore. He’s serving the Triforce. The council sees it. The council knows. They want to make sure I don’t make the same mistake, and I’m… inclined to let them, even with all the traps that loom over us.”

“Perhaps by serving the Triforce, you can better serve your people.” Loamol suggested. Zelda stared back at her with confusion. No one had answered her during her ramblings. Loamol raised her eyebrows. “What is it that you  _ want _ to do, Princess Zelda?” 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

There weren’t as many decorations. There weren’t as many stalls, either. Instead there were more blankets, some with wooden platforms underneath. There were significantly fewer Zora around, but plenty of Hylians to pick up. What Maple noticed the most was that there were more people closer to their age. There were some teens, but without parents around. It was a ram-shackle place and yet it was a cozy one. She found a large blanket with bottles. They were brightly coloured, with fun little caps. She adjusted her broom and narrowed her eyes. “Bingo.” 

She sauntered up. Gannon was looking at the ground. Maple let go of his hand just to inspect the wares. She popped open a bottle.

“Oi, no free samples.” The Hylian snapped. “These ain’t sodas.”

“They  _ smell _ like sodas.” Maple muttered. She put the cork back on. “What is it?”

“Ain’t nothin’ for kids.” That sufficed. Maple realized this wasn’t a shop for potions, they just looked like them. They were mixers for drinks. It explained why they smelled so fragrant. They were just flavour mixes. “So scram.”

“Wouldn’t your shop do better in the potions area?” Maple muttered. “I think folks would appreciate the joke.”

The guy wasn’t amused. “Don’t play cute. You think I don’t see the ragged broom? You were tryin’ to run me off for fake product. You won’t get it that easy in the market. Especially on this end. We’re all fighting tooth and nail for a living out here, and you’re not gonna cut in line ‘cause you think yer clever.”

She put the bottle down. “Sorry.”

He leaned in. “What?”

“I said, ‘sorry’. You’re right.” Maple adjusted her stance. It wasn’t a word she liked, but she knew when it was necessary. “I shouldn’t have singled you out like that. I’m sorry.”

He leaned back on his arm. He stared at them. “Well shit, you actually mean it. I’ll be damned. You must really want this spot pretty bad if you’re willing to apologize for fightin’ for your own cut.”

“It’s the right place.” Eko-Gannon muttered. “I want to be here.”

The guy nodded. He nodded to them and he nodded to himself. He looked around. “Listen kids, you’re on the right track. If you want a space you’re gonna have to take it. You’re gonna need to find better prey, if you wanna win. Let’s see… gotta fight someone who’s lookin’ a bit fidgety…”

She started paying more attention. She looked at their faces. 

“Eko,” she whispered. “This is the place. This is where we need to set up.” 

Gannon looked around. Yes, they had agreed that a more meager place to start was the idea, and he looked Zeel who shrugged, but he couldn’t clock why Maple was so suddenly convinced. Maple started hunting for a space, any five foot square they could drop a blanket of their own. They were  _ here _ . 

“Hey, this is risky to ask but…” Maple looked around. There were more of the teens that made her look twice. “Do you have any songs that your mother sings to you?”

He nodded. “They’re not in Hylian, obviously.”

“You mind teaching me one?”

He paused. “When… when we get back to the castle… I’ll have her sing them to you.”

“No, Eko.” Maple waved at them. They recoiled. “Teach me now.” 

He walked closer to her. He had a small panic, a good amount of worry, but then he started to whisper. He sang to her arm, keeping his voice as low as a five year old knew how. It was the first song that came to mind, and though he thought he should sing something with less weight to it, it was the song that always clung closest to him. He sang off key. He sang with worry in every note. 

 

Gather your baskets

Your pots and your pans

The rain is coming

The rain is coming

 

Roll up your furs

Lay out your fibers  
The rain is coming

The rain is coming

 

Maple looked up. She watched their faces. Most of them were staring back at her, wary of her eager eyes. She was smiling and at first they couldn’t understand why. Then his voice made its way to them. The words muffled but the tune distinct. Their hearts leaped into their throats. As he continued to sing, afraid and yet trusting, a younger girl joined him. No one heard her. Her older sibling, an odd looking boy, hushed her. 

 

The cold of the night

Makes way for the morning

The sleeping serpent

Awakes unwanting

 

It took a bolder spirit to sing audiably. ‘He’ sang under his breath, as low as his voice could go. Maple squeezed Gannon’s hand. He heard them. One low voice was joined by another. Anyone who passed by could not hear the words. Only the melody hung in the air by the time it passed anyone’s lips. Some only hummed, worried that it was still enough to think the words aloud. No one needed to hear the words, anyway. 

 

_ Winter is ending _

_ Summer is blooming _

_ Sisters rejoice for _

_ His reign is coming _

 

Gannon gripped Maple’s hand so tight she thought he would break the bones. Some of the Hylian faces were clueless as to why a song had broken out. Some were worried. Maple looked for those who were afraid. The Mixer Merchant stared at them both with a wild fascination. A grin grew on him like a bright idea. He turned his attention back to the other merchants. 

“ _ There. _ ” He nodded to a merchant selling arrows. She was looking around like a thief in the night. Her nerves perched on her skin, ready to jump. “There’s your target.” 

Maple wasted no time. She dragged Gannon by the hand. The woman saw them 

coming from a few yards away. Maple watched her defenses go up. Gannon let his eyes wander to the arrows. There were fire arrows. He pulled on Maple’s arm. 

“This place is so weird.” Maple laughed. “Can we buy your fire arrows so we can get out of here?” 

The woman nodded. “Yeah, I think I might follow your lead on that one. Place just ain’t like it used to be. How many you want?”

Between the two kids, they only could get seven of the arrows instead of a full bundle of ten. They handed over their hundred rupees from Link and she wrapped them up in a thin leather. Maple talked about how she was so proud of herself for being able to be in the market with just her and her brother. The arrow merchant worried about them. They got talking, and while Gannon mostly kept quiet, Maple asked how business was going. It wasn’t as the woman had hoped. There weren’t a lot of archers running around here. Maple asked where most of the archers were, and when they got to talking about Kakariko, and how there was still time to make it before nightfall, well, Maple and Gannon found themselves helping her pack up. The other merchants along the strip were happy to see the woman go. The Mixer Merchant kept his smile to himself. 

Gannon wasn’t asleep on the operation. He was looking. If things were about order, if things were about keeping on top, then there was a way to track it. There had to be paper. That was one thing he remembered about Hylians thoughout the ages. Everything had a paper attached. As Maple kept the merchant talking and packing, Gannon kept his eyes peeled. He found a fancy, colourful sheet of paper among her belongings and packed it in his pocket with Zeel. He wished he could have read it there, but it would have to wait until Maple was able to look at the sheet and read it to him. 

The merchant left. Maple took a gander of the size. It was a tiny space, but it would do. Gannon slipped the paper out of his pocket and handed it over to her. “I think this is what we needed.”

Maple stared at it. She blinked with surprise. “Eko, where did you  _ get this _ ?”

He shrugged. He wanted to say he was the Thief King. He knew Link wouldn’t appreciate that. He also had a sneaking suspicion that Link was in the running for the title himself. Maple folded it neatly and pocketed the document. 

“Hey.” One the young girls from the other mechants bowed. In her hands was a rug. It was heavy, and she was having a hard time holding it. There was fear and hope in her eyes. She was staring at Gannon, but trying not to. “Um, we thought you might need it.” 

“Thanks.” Gannon tilted the rug to lean on him, and then stumbled back to roll it out. He looked up just in time to see the girl dare a quick bow, and scamper back to her stall where her ‘brother’ was waiting. Gannon looked to Maple. He dared a smile. 

Zeel sighed in Gannon’s pocket. “This is dangerous, folks knowing who you are. But we’ve got ourselves a spot. Lay down the rug, put some rocks down and let’s head back. We’re hungry.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Dinner at the Zora palace was different than dinner at the castle. For one, there wasn’t a table. Everyone sat on the floor, with the runner draped over a low platform in the center. When they were last here, Maple and Gannon had eaten with everyone else where the main dining room had benches and tables. This was a more private occasion, a celebration with just the family to eat. Gannon was the first to notice that everyone left their shoes at the door. Even Link’s boots (the weathered things that they were) slumped over in a corner. Maple and Gannon left their shoes in the line. 

There were only four other people in the room. There was a servant, who had struck up a conversation with the Prince after setting the table, Link and the Zora he was signing to- Princess Mipha. They were signing back and forth, laughing all the while. Gannon hadn’t actually seen Link sign  _ with _ anyone, and it was a whole other thing to see a conversation happening at lightspeed, instead of him just trying to get his thoughts together to speak. He squinted to try and catch the conversation, but there were a handful of signs (ha!) he’d never seen before. 

Uncle Sidon dismissed the servant and waved them over to the table. They plopped down next to him, across from where Link and Mipha were lost in their bubble. Link was the first to notice the kids sit down. He gave them a quick salute, and then started signing at them. He apologized (again, in sign) and got his words together. 

“You kids look tired,” he said. It wasn’t a  _ you look worn out _ . Instead he said it with a tone of pride.  _ You put the work in. _ “How’d today go?”

“We learned a lot!” Maple beamed. She told them about how many different shops there were, and how people would have arguments about prices right there in the street. It was so different from business done in Syrup’s hut. Her prices were law in that house, so to see money as such a fluid concept was an eye opener for Maple. “And we got ourselves a space! Mr. Mixer said it was the Shale District. We’re gonna go back tomorrow and get to know the others around there.”

Sidon narrowed his eyes. “They let you have a place?”

“Ehhhhh….” The kids tilted at the same time, but not in sync. Gannon shrugged and

picked up a glass of water. He took a hefty gulp. He had  _ not _ drank enough water today. “It’s a hustle out there.”

Sidon leaned on his arm over his lap. He stared the kids down. “Do you have the deed?”

Maple nodded. She gently plucked it from her pocket and unfolded it. She glanced it over and handed it to Uncle Sidon. He glanced at the corners. He sighed. It was easy for him to tell, especially since he looked at a thousand of these a week. He set it aside. It was clear to Maple that she was not getting it back.

“So you ran someone off, and stole their spot?” 

“They left.” Gannon snapped. He looked back at the Prince who had  _ not _ appreciated his tone. He looked back at his water. He decided not to add anything that might otherwise get him in trouble. 

“You found where the Gerudo were hiding, and ran out someone who you didn’t like.” Sidon clarified. Gannon looked to Link to see what he would think, but his face was plain. He had seen more statues with facial expressions than what the Hero wore now. Gannon didn’t look at the prince, knowing there would be a harsh glare staring back at him. “That sounds a lot like the prejudice that the Gerudo themselves face.” 

_ That _ got a rise out of the boy. He stood up. He still didn’t have the height to look Sidon in the eye like he had hoped. “No, it’s  _ not _ .”

Sidon didn’t ease. Maple tried to tell him with her eyes that this was not the time or place. Gannon wasn’t having it, or didn’t notice. 

“We ran that merchant out because of how they saw us,” Gannon continued, “not because of  _ who _ they were! They were itching to leave! We didn’t fight them. We didn’t hurt them. We didn’t insult them. We didn’t throw stones after them. We just helped them leave!”

“And I guess she just  _ gave _ you the deed then?”

Gannon knew he couldn’t answer that with as much dignity. He glanced at the table. He couldn’t look Sidon back. “Those people have taken enough. They’ve taken  _ lives _ . Who cares if I take a  _ piece of paper? _ I’m building something bigger, something better. She’ll be fine. She has business elsewhere. All I did was delay her a day. A small price to pay for a peaceful future.”

“How many small prices are you willing to make other people pay, Gannondorf?” Sidon’s voice a rumble. The question broke Gannon’s resolve. He wasn’t used to hearing his full name, either. Silence hung over the table. Sidon turned away from the boy. “Have a seat.”

Gannon did. Maple stared at the table. She felt terrible for not speaking up. She knew it was mostly her plan, mostly her work that set them this way. She looked to Sidon to try and apologize for her behaviour, but she couldn’t bring up the words. The table was quiet. 

At the head of the table sat a pool. The kids hadn’t noticed it because it matched the small moats that covered the level of palace. Now the water rippled. Water splashed onto the floor as the figure rose up out of the deep. The Queen, with all her silks and her laughter, swam up to the edge of the pool and pulled herself out. She lounged at the end of the runner. She picked up on the atmosphere.

“There is no need to disguise yourself in here, Gannon.” She almost yawned. “Especially if you’re going to so easily confess to your methods in the marketplace. No sense hiding your face if your nature is plain as day.”

He didn’t care for that statement either,  _ my nature _ , but Zeel complied with the Queen’s suggestion. His hair was still tucked as neatly as it was in the morning when they first left. He sat with his hands in his lap. 

“Sidon, see to it that you correct the paperwork for them,” she said. He opened his mouth to object. She put up her hand. “Your ideals for how business ought to be run must be taught, not implied. They only did as other merchants encouraged them. If you leave all of their teaching to experience they are bound to pick up the bad habits they see around them. Enough on that, for now. Mipha dear, how are your efforts going?”

Mipha bowed politely to her mother. “Not as well as I hoped, unfortunately. We’re hitting a few roadblocks on some of our research.”

Maple pricked her ear to research. Perhaps all princess’ were alike. “What kind of research?”

“Medical.” Mipha obliged. “I am working to revolutionize how Hyrule is able to administer and apply medicine. I am also trying to bridge the different levels and varieties of magic that is available to different peoples. It is… a thrilling challenge.”

_ I imagine Dad’s not much help. _ Gannon thought to himself. He kept the thought to himself, at least he thought he had. Link had caught the flicker of a facial expression. His own face didn’t change. It made Gannon nervous, no, anxious, to see Link not reacting. He couldn’t place why. 

“Link, you’re not making it harder on her, are you?” The Queen said it with a grin on her face. “For someone who’s supposed to be recovering, you could stand to be  _ compliant _ with her.”

“No, mother,” Mipha laughed. “I’m working with chemical compounds for now. I’ll be certain to call on him when I need some tested, though.”

“Oh, thanks.” Link snorted. “Glad to be of service, your highness.” 

The doors opened. Zeel quickly changed Gannon back to a Zora. It was reflexive now. Servants marched in like a dance with plates of food for the platform in the center. There was seafood and food from Hyrule Castle. There were dumplings of crab and long, proud fish from the lake that glittered like gold. Sidon dropped his sour attitude as the food and drinks filtered in. Wine poured like water. Fresh loaves of bread dotted between the plates of seafood and the fruit. Small dishes of melted cheeses decorated the table like garnishes. Gannon felt his stomach rumble. It was colourful and vibrant, as opposed to the reverent and the reserved table of the castle. There was no hesitation. Link was the first to grab a crustacion by the tail and with a single crack of the shell, eat it whole. Mipha shook her head, but instead of chastising his manners, found a larger beast to outdo him with. 

“Speaking of service,” the Queen leaned into a toast decorated with lobsters and butter, “Link, I have sent a request to your commander. Once you and yours are able, I need the Fallen Caverns investigated. Nothing serious, just a report, but I would feel a lot better knowing you handled it instead of just… some sellsword.”

Link paused, mid-fish. He bit through some bone and cleared his mouth. He mostly just wanted to think on it. Granted, like most things, the decision was not his to make. “Of course, your majesty.” 

“Ha!” She wiped her mouth. “Look at you, you’ve grown so much. I remember I used to be able to mention any temple and not expect to hear from you for a week. More confident, are we?”

“I think he’s just finally mastered the concept of manners, mother.” Sidon teased. “I do believe the Hylians have tamed him, somehow.”

He snapped back a glance. He put more fish in his mouth than he could handle, “Impsshible.”

As they focused on Link, asking him about his squadron and the Hylian castle affairs, Maple was able to comfort Gannon some. She was able to coax him to talk about the food, and other parts of the day. She asked what he thought of the Mixer Merchant, and made plans to see if they could visit him tomorrow. As they talked, a piece of paper slid across the table and snuck under one of Gannon’s plates. He flipped it open. He was pleasantly surprised to Gerudo writing in Link's neat hand. With a few grammatical errors, it read:

 

_ I understand where he is coming from, but I admit I cannot scold you on this one. I cannot say I would have done much differently. Though, you might want to go about and just listen to the folks in the different districts. They often want things they cannot get for themselves. It’s a lot of legwork, but it’s a good way to get what you want in the end. _

 

Gannon looked up to Link. He gave a quick wink, and then continued his conversation with the others. Gannon pocketed the note. It made him feel a lot better. Dinner went by faster as Gannon focused more on the food and less on being in trouble. Sidon still didn’t say much, other than perhaps a night in the baths would do him some good. The kids ate as much as they could handle. Their feet sore, their bellies full, and plenty of ideas for tomorrow, the kids fell asleep before they could clear their plates.

 

~+~+~+~+~+~

 

Sidon laid his clothes on the bench. Looking across, he noticed someone else was in the baths. It wasn’t a hard guess. What Sidon didn’t see were his boots. Sidon grabbed a towel and walked into the bath. Unlike most cities he had seen growing up, their hot tubs were a thing of legend. They ran as deep as proper pools, lit by reflecting lights from the lake. These rooms were the only ones not made of ice, as the hot water would have done them in. Instead they were built of stone. On the rim stood a messy collection of small, square bottles. Out of the six, two were already toppled and empty. He knew the bottle shape; a water-breathing potion. He leaned over the edge to see into the water. 

Link stood on the bottom of the pool, and even from here Sidon could see he was practicing his forms. His movements were slow in the water. Sidon knelt down to the pool and waved his hand through the surface. He had to do it a couple times to get Link’s attention. Link had to fight to get out of his boots. He stood the sword up in them and swam to the surface. 

“That doesn’t look like relaxing to me.” Sidon slipped into the pool and made himself comfortable on the shelf. 

Link shrugged. “Please forgive me, your highness. I mean no disrespect. I need to get back into practice if I’m going into the Temple.”

Sidon stood up the bottles. “There’s no need to be so formal, Link. You were sent here to rest. Practice is only helpful if you haven’t pulled every muscle by the time you’re done.”

Link tilted his head with agreement. He had done that before. He pulled himself onto the bench and leaned back against the wall. Sidon found himself staring at all the scarring. Link didn’t break his attention. Mentally, he was still practicing. Sidon could see it on his face and how his hands curled around the bench. 

Sidon decided it was time to break his focus before he went down to the bottom and started practicing again. He folded his hands behind his head. “So, you were thinking of me, hm?”

That got a good startle out of him. “What?” Link blinked himself through it. “Right, Gannon’s Zora disguise. I’m sorry, I never meant to cause you any trouble by it. It’s just… well, we’re colour coded. You were the first red Zora I remembered.”

“Ugh,” Sidon laughed. “Just like all the girls, you only love me for my looks.”

It got a chuckle out of Link. The laugh didn’t last long. Link saw the sword on the bottom and his worries about the temple and the war came right back. He was chest deep in the most soothing, warm and scented waters of all of the Zora Kingdom, and yet he was still as tense as if he was in the Temple itself. 

“Do you want help, Link?” Sidon leaned forward to try and look him in the eye. “You don’t seem to be able to break out of the loop.”

Link gave him a performing smile. “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. Just being here helps, honestly.”

“Except you’re not here.” Sidon brushed Link’s water-flat hair out of his face. “You’re up here, stressing yourself out. Letting it go and enjoying the bath isn’t neglecting your work. If you don’t rest, you can’t recover, and it’ll be harder for you to do well instead of easier.”

“Yeah,” Link rubbed his face with his hands. Whatever oils or juices were mixed with this water were phenomenal. He spoke through his hands. “See, I know that, but being able to  _ do that _ , not so easy.”

“Well, I cannot have a guest in my baths not able to relax.” Sidon lowered his voice. LInk recognized the tone immediately. He had several reactions, mostly from embarrassment, and Sidon noticed all of them. “If training is really what you want to do with your evening then I won’t stop you, but I would much rather help you get your mind off it.”

Link opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out. He tried it again. His hands came up out of the water but he wasn’t sure what to sign either. He gave up. Start with simple statements. “I have trouble communicating.”

Sidon took Link’s hand and put it on his waist. He pressed Link’s hand against his side, and leaned in to whisper into his ear. “How about this? Squeeze if you want more,” and then he tapped the back of Link’s hand, “and double tap if you need me to back up. Does that work for you?”

Link stared at his hand on Sidon’s side. He was almost as red as the Prince. He nodded. Sidon picked up Link’s chin and gently kissed his lips. Link didn’t kiss him back. Instead, Link immediately double tapped. 

Sidon backed up. Link’s eyes fell to the water. Sidon eased back from where he sat, but to his surprise Link hadn’t let go. The prince could feel the gears turning in the hero’s head. After a moment, Link pulled back his hand.

He grabbed a water-breathing potion and threw it back for every last drop. He winced and glared through the flavour (if one could call it that.) He had to kneel on the bench to reach Sidon’s face. He threw his arms over Sidon’s shoulders, kissed him with more force than he intended, and with more strength than Sidon knew he had, pulled him under the water.

 


	30. Cinders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay there is a bit of violence in this one. It is 95% flashback from Gannon's memories. Death in Triplicate.

Link changed Gannon out of his silks and into his pajamas. He sat the kid on his knee, brushed the sleeping boy’s teeth, and tucked the kid under the covers. Gannon shifted under the sheets until he was comfortable. Zeel laid down on his hand. Link said goodnight and dimmed down the light in the room. 

“Zeel.”

“Hm?”

“I’ll be in the baths if they need me.” Link watched as Gannon buried his face deep into the pillow and started to snore. Link ducked out. His quiet steps thinned to silence as he disappeared into the hall. 

Already Gannon’s feet were pressing against the sheets. Zeel took a deep breath. With the long day out in the market he was not looking forward to a long night. Maybe he’d get lucky, and the dreams would be pleasant, or short. He reached deep into the Triforce in his little boy, closed his eyes, and opened up his heart to his nightmares. 

 

Gannondorf was walking across a burning field. He weilded the top half of a spear in his hand. Flames whipped around the head of the spear. They licked at the pole but Gannon had control of them. They would feed, just not yet. If they were willing to wait, the flames would  _ feast _ . 

Zeel took in the area. Hyrule Field was nothing but a blazing battlefield. Corpses of every breed and race rotted in the sun. The mostly living had fled. The mostly dead wept in silence and stench. Among the dead was Gannondorf’s horse, the grand beast of war now the banquet for scavangers. Gannon did not look at any of it. Zeel couldn’t tell if he could even  _ smell _ it, because his breathing was heaving and drying blood coated most of his face. His eyes were fixed. 

Ahead of him was the Lost Woods. Alone, his eyes and soul (and spearhead) ablaze, Gannondorf was marching for the wood. He knew he could not navigate it. That was a thought that Zeel could hear circle around his mind over and over. Chasing the thought was his solution. Zeel felt the carnage yet to come in his core.

The Lost Woods was more lush and more grand than Zeel had ever known. The Great Tree cast its glittering shadow in every direction. Nearby moutains bowed to its glory, and the forest flourished in competition beneath its care. Zeel felt the awe, but the more respect and wonder he felt the greater the agony of mourning became. 

“Gan,” he flew onto the shoulder of the raging man. He wasn’t a full grown adult like he had been in many of his memories. He was not an established general, or a practicing prince. He was an older teen, and what minimal stability available had been gouged out of him in battle. “This is going to be a… bad one. You need to seperate yourself now, before it starts.” 

The man did not answer him. Zeel rubbed his hands together. Fine, a hard night it is. Zeel flew into his face and pinched his hands around his nose. “Come on, snap out of it.”

Gannondorf sized him in his fist and cast the fairy aside. Zeel bounced against the torn shoulder of a bokoblin. The smell overwhelmed him. He gagged and reminded himself that he wasn’t truly there. He was in a room in the Zora Palace. Throwing up on the boy’s hand would do no good. Zeel flew back up to Gannondorf’s shoulder. 

“Alright, don’t make me zap you.” Zeel hissed. “You need to seperate yourself from the memory. Come on, Gan. I know you’re in there.  _ How many koi swim in the Temple’s Pool? _ ”

The teen finally met his eyes. “You cannot stop me. I am inevitable. I am going to take my pound of flesh; a pound for every gallon of water taken from the lips of my people. The goddesses want to play favourites? That’s fine. That is  _ fine by me _ . I will burn their pretty little do-over until it is as ugly as ours.”

The fairy was stunned. Gannondorf had never answered him, not  _ through _ a memory. “So you  _ can _ see me.”

“No, my rage has not blinded me yet, fey.” Gannondorf pushed onward. Zeel flew out of the way. It was better than the alternative of being tangled in his war-mangled hair.  _ Fey _ . Alright, so he had enough connection to see him, but not enough to  _ know _ him. 

“What year is it, Gannon?” Zeel insisted.

“1163.” 

“And what year am I in?”

Zeel felt him strain against the mental process of being in two times at once. Normally Gannon would stop walking, and as he became aware of the split, would divide himself the Boy from himself the Memory. Gannondorf kept walking. There was no semi-opaque boy left behind. 

Zeel could only keeep up with his long gait. “There are no Koi at the Temple of Time.” 

He didn’t answer. 

“There used to be.” Zeel continued. He just needed to establish a connection, one memory to another. “Do you know where they went?”

“No.” 

“Yes, you  _ do. _ ” The fairy threw up his arms. “You were so intent on it.”

Gannon stopped in his tracks so that the fairy flew ahead by accident. Zeel looked back at him. “Listen. I do not know what Koi are. I do not know what you  _ want _ me to understand, but there is only one truth right now. The Lost Wood Burns Today. That demon will have nowhere else left to hide. This ends now.”

“Please, don’t.” Zeel begged. “Please. It will never forgive you.”

“No, it won’t,” he hissed, “because it will be  _ dead. _ ”

The fairy couldn’t leave his side. There was nowhere to go but through. Zeel flew by his shoulder. As they crossed the threshold into the wood around the Wood, Gannondorf touched his spear to the ground. The flames flickered and spat against the dew of the plants across the forest floor. The spear sparked, and wherever the sparks landed the flames raized- water or no. 

They came to a cottage pitched high above the ground. Underneath it a river flowed. A ladder of boughs and vines led up to the narrow balcony. Gannon sized it up, considered burning it from its stilts, and decided otherwise. He blew the fire from beneath him and leaped halfway up the ladder. He pulled himself up onto the balcony. His feet crashed against the wood and they creaked under his weight. They were not designed for a man of his size and stature. 

Inside lived a witch. She stood, hunched over her couldron with terror in her eyes. She gazed at him through him, and then glanced up to Zeel. Zeel’s heart ran cold. The witch kept her voice low. “Is… Are you alright?”

Gannon’s marked hand caught to flames. The spear did not burn, but Zeel could feel the heat. The witch backed up. Her movement felt wrong. She was standing in the hut but her feet shuffled differently. “Hey, what are you doing?!”

Zeel flew between them. “Gan, okay stop. Put the fire down. This isn’t real. It was, but it isn’t now. This is a nightmare. Enough is enough.”

Gannon slapped Zeel aside. He marched across the room and picked up the witch in his blazing hand. She screamed. The brand on his hand glowed brighter as he brought the fire to weild. Zeel flew to his hand and rested on it, untouched by the fire. The fairy bit Gannondorf’s hand and the glow of the Power diminished sharply. Zeel was stealing his power. Gannon roared, slapped the fairy against the strong bones and muscles of his hand. The fairy dropped to the floor, coughing and fluttering. His Power reignited and he fingers dug into the witch’s engulfed skin. Her throat filled with smoke through her nose, her mouth, the holes tearing through under his grasp. 

“Where is he?” Gannon snarled. “Where is the boy?”

The witch wept. She could not cry enough tears to put out the fire. Gannondorf decided to stop. Whether it was to fascilitate speech before it was lost to her forever, or because he realized that she genuinely didn’t know, Zeel couldn’t tell. He dropped her on the floor. She didn’t hit the floor completely. She wheezed. She tried to scream, but she couldn’t get the air to go through her throat properly, or to get her voice to make sounds with the smoke that clouded her. 

 

Zeel pulled himself out of the memory. He could still smell the smoke. As his vision adjusted to the dimness of being the only light, he saw her. Maple was clutching her throat, weeping and gasping. Gannon stood in the center of her room, his hand stil smouldering. He turned on his heels and walked out of the room. 

“I’m sorry-” Zeel pulled up the fabric so she could breathe through the sheet, instead of just all the smoke. “I’m sorry- I’m… I tried to stop him-”

 

Gannondorf made his way through the wood. Without the fey following him he found the wood eerie and dense with silence. He was still not into the Lost Wood. The paths were well marked and worn down by beasts and the denizens that lived in the arbored shade. Smoke flowed ahead of him. There were no insects, no birds, no beady eyes peeking out from between the bark. There was only smoke and ash. The moisture had deserted the air, evaporated from his presence.

He knew something was off. For all the smoke and fire about him, he could not feel the heat. The fey’s words floated about him; as irritating as the fey itself. Worse still, its nonsense carried a weight on his shoulders. Why were the Koi important? How could Koi be important when his people died of dehydration in the desert while Hyrule bathed for festivals behind their walls? 

_ What year is it? _

There was a howl. The only creatures that remained were the ones that hid between the twisted boughs and the arcanely shadowed paths. Gannondorf took it all in. He stuck down the spear in the pathway. It festered and flared against the roots of the twisted tree. The fire died. The tree smoked, and then the smouldering stopped. 

He knew he had to use his own hand. He had seen it before, he had seen ‘now’ before, but the  _ concept _ of seeing now before didn’t settle in him. He flared his marked fist into a sphere. He plunged his hand against the bark. At first it cracked under his Gerudo strength. It cracked and chipped under his strength, his anger and his drive. The flakes of bark took to flames. He pressed his hand against the meat of the tree. It was more than burning the wood. Like feeling the heartbeat of a loved one, Gannon pushed the fire of his soul into the core of the tree. Its leaves burst into cinders. As they shed like autumn they spread the fire. Gannon watched the tree burn. He watched the tree of the Lost Wood die. It was the first of legions. 

 

He did not know where he was. He did not know whether he was at the edge of the Lost Woods still, or closer to its heart. No matter where he looked, where he walked, the Great Tree loomed above as if it was a long ways away. It made burning the Lost Wood  _ that much _ alluring. This place was demonic by nature. It had claimed plenty of lives by intention, by will, alone. Fools died in the mountains. Anyone died in the wood. 

Through another path, another cloud of smoke, and Gannondorf found himself in a small arena. It had no formal marking. He only knew it was a ceremonial place for battle because he could hear the  _ call _ . Brush and undergrowth made a ring. Trees watched for the smoulder that rapidly approached on dry winds. The strongest trees stood at the four diagonal corners of the compass rose. Smoke hung heavy here. It was only a matter of time before it went up in all consuming fire. His hand still burned. 

Then Gannondorf saw him. He was hard to see in the smoke, hard to see against the natural greens and browns muted in the polluted air. He slumped against the tree. He was so small, a once plump child now wearing thin. That stupid green hat hung over his face. 

“Ah.” 

The voice didn’t belong to Gannondorf. Someone took his hand. The hands were bigger than his, but only because his hands were smaller than he thought. The brand of the Triforce on his hand glowed, not with hostility, but with familiarity. 

A tired man stood next to him. He was significantly shorter, but as much as a decade older. Gannondorf knew who it was supposed to be- he could see the mark. It was wrong. He felt restrained. 

“No wonder Zeel couldn’t get through to you,” the man said. “You know better than to listen to the Fey in the wood.”

Gannondorf looked at the boy. He looked at the man who wasn’t supposed to be here. He squinted through the smoke. Gannondorf found himself fixated on the man’s hand.  _ No. _ No more trickery, no more deceptions, no more cheats in warfare. He squeeezed the man’s hand hard. He burned his hand brighter. “I won’t let you escape so easily.”

The man cried out in pain, and then disappeared. Gannondorf turned back to the boy.  _ Finally _ . This whole mess would be over. Even if he died tonight, right here in the Wood, he would still have a victory. The Wood would never recover. His people would be vindicated. Perhaps, Gannondorf prayed to Din, as the Wood died, so would its precious little Hero. He reached out to take the boy by the shirt-

He felt water over his right hand. The fire was extinguished. Steam fought to burn his hand. He was not so weak to the heat, to the blessing of Din. Instead the pain came from the grip too tight on his hand. The man came back. He looked more tired. 

“Spells really do come easily to you, don’t they?” The man hissed through his teeth. “Making that a mental note for later. Perhaps all your sheets should be made of cotton.”

“Enough of your madness!” Gannondorf bellowed. “Tonight, as the Wood dies, so does the boy. No more distractions, no more interruptions!” 

“ _ Take a closer look. _ ” The man roared back. His eyes were as wounded and as angry as his own. Gannondorf looked at the boy. Same tunic, same scabbard, same shield- there was no sword. The sword was gone. The more he saw the more he saw was  _ wrong _ . His hands were bare. Neither of his hands had the mark of the Goddesses. What should have been caloused hands were now turning to thin, scratchy fibers of wood. The boy was dead. The boy, the hero he was supposed to be, was dead and succumbing to the witchcraft of the Wood. 

“Where is it?!” Gannon couldn’t look away. “Where is the Triforce of Courage?!”

 

The perspective swong around them. The smoke clouded Gannon’s vision. Through the smokescreen all he could see was the glow of their hands. The light outlined them. It showed him what  _ they _ saw. His own hand was so small in the man’s hand. Their Tirforces glowed together. It didn’t feel the first time. He found himself looking up at the man instead of down his nose at the Hylian. 

_ Wait, ...Dad? _

The smokescreen cleared just enough for Gannon to see. The young hero Link, from 1163, stood against the tree. He was coughing up a fit. He was holding a cloth over the Princess’s mouth so that she could breathe. It was wet with milk. She was staring at the wood as it burned. His eyes were closed, both because he was coughing and because he didn’t want to see. 

[He’s dying,] the boy signed. The girl reached up to hold his hand to comfort him. He only took her hand to put it over the cloth. He only wanted her to hold it to her face. Both hands. Hold it fast. [The Great Deku Tree is dying, and there’s nothing I can do.]

The boy sunk down againt the tree and his head dropped into his hands. Zelda held the mask to her face, but rest her head on his shoulder. He didn’t shove her off. She looked at his hand, and then to hers. 

“We just have to make sure it ends here.” Zelda whispered. She took a torn piece of her dress (her mother would have called it rags now, anyway) and tied the mask on. It flopped against the bandage. Link adjusted the fabric so that it held up. They pressed their foreheads together. 

[I have a plan.]

“I’m not going to like it, am I?”

[You never do.]

He took his hand in hers. He kissed it. It took him a minute. While he was holding her hand between his, he had to force himself to use his voice to speak. Zelda started to see the plan come together. 

“Link,  _ no _ .” She put her free hand on his face. “No, we can do this  _ together _ .”

He nodded. “I, Link, Bearer of the Triforce of Courage, willingly give Faore’s Blessing to Zelda, Bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom.”

“Link-!”

Gannon expected the light to be blinding. Instead it was like fireflies, divine without question and yet deceptively insignificant in their radiance. The lights glowed over them both, his eyes lighting up with hers, their hands glowing together. Slowly he grew dimmer, and she grew brighter. The lights left him like the last wheezes of a campfire. Link started coughing harder. 

He drew his sword. As he took it in his hand, the wings of the handguard closed. He shoved it into her arms. As she wrapped her fingers against the hilt, the wings opened again. Zelda broke into sobs. He took her face in his hands, leaned forward, and kissed her lips through the mask. Their kiss was short. What good was a promise of commitment on one’s deathbed? 

Zelda ran into the brush to hide. She swallowed her sobs. She couldn’t turn off the lights that flooded her face. She couldn’t let go of the sword. Her hand knew how to grasp the hilt, even though she never before had touched it. She couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t watch him breathe his last as his one true home, his people, all the children of Faore burned to cinders.

 

The smokescreen whirled past them. Their perspective changed again. They stood on the sidelines, now that Gannon was finally seperated from Gannondorf. He watched as the Gerudo Teen creep toward the dead Hero. With hesitance, with great suspicion, he pulled off the hat that covered his face. The boy’s face was burned and raw. The parts that had taken more fire damage already revealed the fingers of branches weaving underneath. Though his eyes were like glass, they still wept. Gannondorf struggled to take it all in. 

He didn’t hear her coming, not with the fire raging around them. He didn’t see her, even though her eyes and her hand were glowing brighter than he had ever known. He didn’t know she was waiting for him. Zelda ran out from the underbrush. She leaped into the air and plunged the Master Sword into Gannondorf’s back. The two of them screamed. One of the trees of the arena exploded into flames. As the Triforce of Power battled with the sealing power of the Master Sword, the arena died to the fire. Zelda shoved it in deeper. She added her own light to her blow. She struck a stone underneath but kept pushing through Gannondorf’s body. 

Smoke silenced them. Fire trapped them. Zelda collapsed; her thin mask of fabric and milk was spent. Gannondorf lost his connection to the Triforce of Power as the Sword tore it from him. With Wisdom, Zelda knew that there was no escaping the Wood. It was too far gone, too deeply plunged into agony and lament, to even let the Princess through. With Courage, she decided to do something new. 

She reached under Gannondorf, still fighting with his last breath, and with his blood wrote a spell on the stone punctured by the sword. She blessed it. With her authority as the Daughter of the Goddess, she blessed the simple stone. Right there in the center of the Lost Woods she sealed Gannon. 

As Gannondorf gave his dying breath, so did she. The three Bearers lie dead in the Lost Woods. There was nothing but grief. There was nothing but death. The Lost Woods burned until there was nothing but ash over soil. Deep underneath, there were seeds. Eventually, they would grow. They would not forget. The Wood would come back, but it would never, ever, forgive. 

 

Gannon gasped. The air was clean. He could hear water flowing in every direction. His arms were crossed over his chest to keep him in place. His right hand faded. So did Link’s left, which gripped him so hard despite the fresh burns that ran up his wrist. They weren’t in the Wood. They were in the Zora Palace, sitting cross-legged in the hallway. The water poured out of the wall and flowed over them. 

Link rest his face on Gannon’s hair. Zeel was nowhere to be found. Gannon felt sick. He could still taste the smoke in his mouth. He wanted to talk to Link, but there was no question he wanted to ask that he couldn’t answer for himself. 

He looked at Link’s hand. Gannon had burned him. He thought over the memory, and then the sickening realization hit him. Tears hit him immediately and his voice tripped over them. “Oh Din- who… who else did I hurt?!”

“Maple is with Princess Mipha.” Link’s voice was a deeper octave than Gannon was used to. “She’ll be fine, physically.”

Gannon bent over Link’s hold on him. There was too much to process. There was too much to think. There were too much weight. Gannon wept loudly. He wept for the people who died of dehydration in his arms back in 1163. He wept for the forest he burned. He wept that he could do nothing about either of those things. He wept that the only people he could help were the people he was hurting. 

Link only held him close and let Gannon grieve. 


	31. To Be a Bearer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busy day tomorrow so setting this out early. 
> 
> This is where the fic told me that mental health was going to be another major theme for this piece, so any comments, concerns and especially advice on that subject would be greatly appreciated.

    The palace didn’t have a fire to put out. Perhaps it would have been better if one of the stones had caught fire, given the guards something to stomp out. Instead, Mipha stood over Maple. The Princess led her through a lullaby to ensure that she still had the range of speech and tone. Her body had healed well under Mipha’s trained touch. The Zora could not so easily heal the psychological damage. 

    Maple curled up in her bedding. She didn’t want all these people in her room. She didn’t know Mipha at all, and Uncle Sidon was the only person who wasn’t here. Guards were in the room. There were doctors. There was a lesser court wizard who was assessing the damage and decyphering the fire spell used. Maple wanted to hide under the sheet and be alone. 

    _Had you come home when Granma Syrup told you to, you wouldn’t be here now. If you were a good obedient girl, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Now you’ve seen his true colours, and you can’t go back._

    Maple couldn’t afford to cry in front of a crowd. She heard Mipha speak in Zora, which Maple only knew a few functional phrases. In small groups the visitors left the room. It took some urging, but Mipha had reduced Maple’s company to the Princess and a pair of guards. The Zora sat down on the bed. She rest her hand on Maple’s foot over the sheet. She didn’t ask Maple questions. She didn’t try to tell her that everything would be fine. Instead she only hummed a gentle song. Maple didn’t want that either, but it was better than being pestered. 

There was someone in the hall. A guard stepped out to meet them. When he came back after a short conversation, he waved Mipha outside. Maple wrapped the sheet tighter around herself as Mipha left the room. She knew who was outside. She hoped that if she disappeared inside the sheets, she wouldn’t have to acknowledge them. 

 

Mipha knew who it would be that came calling. She thanked the guard and asked him to stay in the room with Maple. The guard wanted to argue, seeing the company, but Mipha insisted. Without a guard watching, Mipha had the freedom to be candid. 

[How bad?] Link signed. It was difficult for him to move his hand because of the burn scabbing over. His right hand held onto the boy who hid behind him. 

Mipha took his hand in hers and worked her magic into it. She knew he would have objected if she asked. He knew she wouldn’t have heard any of it. “Thankfully, her burn didn’t sit anywhere near as long as this one.”

When she let go of his hand, the edges of the scabs were still faintly visible. That was the cost of not going to her right away. Link didn’t mind. The marks were like coastlines that meshed well with the rest of his collection of scars. She stared at him with sorrow. Long ago she had given up on trying to ignore all the damage she wish she could have been there to heal. 

“However the burn was significantly worse, so there will still be some discolouration. Thankfully she hasn’t sustained any functional damage.” Mipha sighed, “but as it is, I cannot let you two in to see her.”

Link nodded. He feared as much. The statement ground into Gannon like acid over his heart. There were still tears to shed, even after so long. Link was having a hard time keeping the boy from completely dehydrating himself sick. He stuck to Link’s side, not out of comfort, but like a prisoner. To him there was a sour justice to being dragged around by the Hero at a time like this. 

Mipha knelt down to hold her face at Gannon’s eye level. He hid his face. “Are you hurt?”

Gannon didn’t answer her. His lungs were sore from sobbing, but he wasn’t burned. He hadn’t even stubbed his toe. He didn’t want to admit that he was the only one who came out of his nightmare unscathed. He hoped Link would speak for him, but the man stood there waiting for Gannon to answer the Zora himself. He couldn’t. Mipha nodded in acknowledgement and stood up. 

“Well, Sidon is working with the guards to cover this up.” Mipha folded her arms. “If anyone can make sense of a Zora being able to weild fire that bright, it’s him. They’ll lick up every word. To that end, I need the both of you to keep quiet until Sidon gives you what you can say.”

Link smiled in the face of the morose subject. His hand flickered only a few signs, but Mipha knew the words between them. [Really, Mipha, you’re worried about me snitching?]

“It also means not wandering around. Stay in this lower level.” She watched his face. She knew that was harder. “Though, you both should be in bed, anyhow.”

[I think it will be a while before anyone will be able to sleep.] Link squeezed Gannon’s hand, just a little. The boy looked like he was going to lose his lunch, or perhaps his soul. [Mind if I use the kitchen?]

Maple nodded her permissions. Zelda would have noted that this meant she did mind, and that Link should stay away from the Kitchens, but the both of them were too tired to entertain who they were both thinking of. 

“Give her some time before you try to see her, or make amends. Right now what she needs is rest.” Mipha nodded to Maple’s closed door. “We can handle everything else later. She needs time to process. Is there anyone else she’s close to that can speak to her later?”

Link nodded. [Impa is the one who has taken responsibility for her. Considering her experience, she’s well suited to handle this when we get back.]

Mipha nodded. “Good, that is a relief. If you need me again I’ll be with my brother.”

Gannon watched the two of them quickly embrace one another. It was brief and gentle, but it was the most affectionate he had seen Link outside of the Glade. Deep in the part of his thoughts that hadn’t been completely scorched to the ground by the nightmare’s events, he thought it was fitting that Link would be so close to a Healer, of all people. He couldn’t entertain that thought right now. 

_After all that everyone has done for you, after all your efforts, you’re still exactly the person they were afraid you would be. They need to seal you now. It will only get worse. You can’t deny who you are anymore. First harm, then death. He has to know this. He’s only playing nice until you get back to the Castle. Then he is going to murder you like he should have done the night you were born.You have no right to be upset. You have no right to want to live._

The speech repeated itself over and over, harping one part and then another. Gannon followed Link around the level without resistance. He obeyed without hesitation. He couldn’t look up. He could only hear the speech richochette aroud his skull condemning him deeper. He could see Link heating up some milk over the stove, but the speech said it was only for Link. He watched the man pour two mugs and set them on the table. He didn’t touch it. He wasn’t allowed. His thoughts reminded him that he had no right to comfort. 

Link blew over Gannon’s mug of milk until it was warm instead of scalding. With a fork, he pulled at the film on top. He made little cat ears in the center, the way Impa used to do for him as a boy. Gannon didn’t look at it. Link knew that face, that posture, that sick strain of his eyes. Link sat with him quietly for a little while. He sipped at his own mug of milk. He waited to see if mirroring would kick in. It didn’t. The kitten ears melted back into the film and yet Gannon hadn’t allowed himself to move. Link set down his mug. 

“Gannon.” He didn’t whisper. His voice was low, disturbing the silence like ripples on the water. Link watched the boy glance over in response, and scold himself for doing so. “Gannondorf.”

The boy’s face cracked. His lips pulled back into a gouged grimace. He hunched over. The boy couldn’t get his eyes to well up anymore. He was looking pale. All of his muscles clenched and fingers dug into the seat of the chair. 

“Come here.” Link held open his arms. Gannon didn’t budge. Link reached over and picked him up. He set his feet down on the floor. The boy fixed his eyes under the table. Link lifted his chin with a finger, but instead of looking at Link, Gannon clamped his eyes shut. His face tensed up. Gannon was still listening to the voice that repeated damnation in his head. “You have to stop listening to it. That voice will kill you.”

That got Gannon to look at him. He caught himself and looked back under the table. Link sighed. “You cannot punish yourself for this.”

“I can’t not-” Gannon gasped through choking. “I-”

Link watched the boy’s eyes dart around the floor looking for the words. 

“I’m evil. That’s all I am.” 

Link took Gannon’s face in his hands. There was no more avoiding him. He looked at Gannon’s eyes as if he was looking for the last of his sanity in them. “No. You stop that right now. I’m not having you speak about yourself like that.”

“I hurt her!” Gannon screeched. He heaved, but there was nothing to shed, nothing to release. All the feelings were still brimming but the body couldn’t flush them out. It physically hurt. “I hurt you, I almost- I almost-”

“Maple is fine.” Link insisted. He showed Gannon his own hand. It was fine. “She’s a little shaken up, but she’s okay. You heard Princess Mipha. You think Maple didn’t know you could wield fire when she swore that oath?”

Gannon paused. “We didn’t have a lighter, so I used my hand to heat the seal.”

Link nodded. “Okay then, I think she knew. She’ll come around. Right now she just needs rest, and so do you, but you need to get past this first. If you let that voice fester it will eat you alive and you’ll never be rid of it.”

Gannon broke free of Link’s hands. He folded his arms around his chest. “There’s no bad voice. It’s only what I should have known all along. All I do is hurt people. I take all of my anger and my hate and I- I-”

Fine, Gannon was not at the point of reason yet. Link sat up in his seat. He coaxed his voice to a cold edge. “How many warnings do I give, Gannon?”

The boy hadn’t expected the question. It settled in him and he embraced it. “You only give two.”

“That’s right. Why.” Recite it.

“First is a mistake. Second is poor judgement.” Gannon tensed up. I know what I deserve. “Third is a dec-lar-a-tion of character.”

“And how many times has this happened?” 

“I don’t know.” Gannon had already lost a clear recolection of his first incarnation. He had no idea how to count when he first started getting nightmares. He had no clue how many times he had been reborn. What he did know was that it was way more than three. 

Link leaned in close. “Once.” 

That math didn’t add up for Gannon. “No- no it’s… it’s been so many times-”

“What happened tonight was you hurting your cousin.” Link said calmly, clearly. “You hurt your closest friend because you were trapped in your own nightmare, your own turmoil. You are five, and it has happened once.”

“But-” Gannon waved behind him, as if all the other Gannondorfs were standing in the kitchen, single file. “No-”

Link took Gannon’s hands in his. The boy still looked behind him to the door. Out there was the hall, and in the hall was where he had wandered, hands ablaze. “Listen, from one Bearer to another, you are yourself. That’s all you can be. You are not the First. You are not the Last. Those old lives have died. This is a new one. It’s a new slate. It’s not clean, we don’t get clean slates, but there’s nothing we can do about the expectations of everyone else. This is the first time this has happened. What does that make this?”

 Gannon knew the answer Link was looking for, but it was wrong. “A mistake.”

“And what do we do with mistakes?”

“How could this be a mistake?” Gannon cracked. He pulled away from Link. Link let his hands slide out without tension. Gannon’s arms flew about himself while he tried to put his thoughts together. He finally looked Link in the eyes, as if an answer would be waiting for him there. “Mistakes are small! Mistakes are just… just… How is something this bad just a mistake?”

“You are a Bearer, Gannon.” Link had such sorrow, such empathy in his features. “You are a King. Your decisions, and your mistakes, have a greater weight. It’s not fair, I know. That’s why it is important to learn as much as you can, and make as few mistakes as you can manage. Mistakes, however, will still happen. Poor Judgement will still happen. You have to work harder than anyone to make your character clear.” 

“I don’t-” Gannon’s arms fell in defeat. “-I don’t know if I can do this.”

Link closed his eyes. He nodded. “I understand.” 

They ached in silence for a moment. Gannon pressed his hands into his eyes. He didn’t want Link to understand. He didn’t want to feel like they were in the same shoes. He didn’t want to look at the person who had been his bitter and mortal enemy all these millenia, the boy he had just burned to the ground, to be his equal. Gannon’s breathing was heavy, but level. He didn’t know how to let go of how he felt.

“What do we do with mistakes, Gan?”

The boy gave in. “We learn from them.”

“Okay.” Link picked up Gannon into his lap. When the kid was comfortable, Link reached across the table and picked up Gannon’s milk. He handed the boy the mug. This time, Gannon took it. He took the smallest sip. It was warm and soothing. It felt like time going backwards as he came down from Gannondorf of a Thousand Lives back into a boy. Link picked up his own mug of milk and took a drink. “Let’s take apart what we’ve learned.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

His mentor was fast asleep. Ratal had been long accustomed to the night shift, but taking watch for most of the night every night was wearing on him. He didn’t like much of their camps, either. They were usually low places, hidden but difficult to defend once detected. It set his nerves on end, which meant he couldn’t sleep, which left him standing watch anyway. Ratal’s feet hurt. He missed the palace terribly. At least there his greatest enemy was boredom, or a prank.

He took down logs by the hour, the measures of time by the stars against the moon’s curviture. In the second hour of the morning he clocked a shadow jostle over a hill. He dropped to a crouch, nestled against the ground and strained his eyes in the starlight. It had a familiar bounce. He stood up, pulled his Office Issue Miror from his pocket and flashed his light to the shadow. That was the bounce of a postman’s jog. Ratal watched against any possiblility of ambush while the Night’s Postman approached. 

“Junior Postman Ratal.” The Night Postman returned the salute as he jogged into hearing range. “I am assuming charge of your post and packages.” 

Ratal looked at his mentor, fast asleep. It sounded like a punishment. He looked over the Night Postman’s uniform. The shorts were clean, the collar was pressed, the pennent was hung correctly so that the sigil of the Post was upright and firm. The shoes were tied in the correct fashion for optimal security and running speeds. The uniform fit correctly, from what he could see in the starlight. 

“Ever watchful.” The Postman reached into his bag for a clipboard. He wrote up a slip for positive behaviour, signed it with his name and rank, the date, and assigned it to Ratal. “That’s what we like to see. You can turn this into the Headquarters for swag and other benefits.”

Ratal examined the ticket. It had all the proper seals. He set his bewildered acceptance aside. “With whom do I have the pleasure of working with?”

“I am Marched Hain. Seventh Division.” He held out his hand. Ratal shook it. “We have a special package. Due to your more military backgaround, you’ve been assigned to escort this parcel to and from Kakariko Village.”

Ratal put up his finger. Hold on. Marched Hain obliged to wait. Ratal gently roused his mentor. The first thing the mentor saw was that it was not morning, and so he thought something was terribly wrong. Then he saw the voucher ticket, and that told him that things were exemplary. He bounced himself to his feet and saluted Hain. 

“Sir, this is Marched Hain. He says I’m being reassigned?”

The mentor held out his hand and Hain handed over the clipboard. He flipped through the pages. There was the file, the request letter, the packing slip and the purchasee’s signature. The mentor nodded and returned the clipboard. “The paperwork is all in order. This happens from time to time. A good postman inspires trust in their patrons, and it is not unusual for a patron to request a particular postman for their delivery. It seems one of your former colleagues has requested your service.” 

“Oh.” Ratal didn’t have much to add, but at least the paperwork was in order. “Should I take charge of the delivery and head out now?”

“That is ideal, yes.” Hain handed over a small box tied tight with twine and sealed with a Postal label from the Castletown Headquarters. “This is a dual-delivery, or a Round Trip. Have you done one before?”

“No.”

“Your patron has requsted that you take the Package there and back, which means that you will not be able to leave the district until you have the return postage. You can make local deliveries, and stray no more than a quarter day from the pick-up location. If you need a map clarifying authorized range, one will be provided to you by the local office.” 

Right. Good to know. Ratal picked up his parcel bag, turned over the letters in his possesion to his Mentor, and searched the stars for the path to Kakariko. He did his three seconds (exactly) and took off over the hills. 

Hain took up the night watch. He was too worried to sleep. The mentor laid back down on his mat. “So, a delivery from the Princess. Unusual.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

  
  



	32. Torn Bonds

A rough night is no excuse for a Merchant- not if they want to eat. Sidon found this, and the fact that the children shouldn’t be wandering around until gossip died down, a wonderful opportunity to teach his niece and nephew about the less glamorous parts of trade. He waited several hours before waking them and escorting them (pajamas and all) to his office. Their first impression was the correct one. They looked at all the paperwork neatly organized across his long, L-shaped desk and  _ groaned _ . He pointed to the fainting couch along the far wall. 

“Get some pillows to sit on.” Sidon nudged them on. He expected them to be picky about the pillows, but instead they just picked the closest ones and dragged back to his desk. He assigned them spots on the floor along his desk, which was as low as the supper table from the night before. 

Sidon reached into his pocket and pulled out the shop deed. The kids took on the posture of a hostage. Several days ago they were so excited for this. Sidon tapped on the wall behind his desk. There was a blank deed, with  _ Invalid _ written across in Zora, Hylian and formal Goron. It had the different parts of the market deeds highlighted and explained on the paper around it. He held up their deed to the copy on the wall. 

“Can you figure out what kind of deed you have?” Sidon spoke gently. Gannon didn’t even look before shaking his head. Maple leaned on the desk to get a better look. She took her time reading the Hylian parts, and the numbers. 

“It… looks like a temporary deed, for Thursday?” Maple squinted. “Does that mean… it’s not good anymore?”

“Good reading.” Sidon nodded. He pointed to the corner of the deed, where extra marks had been written in. “Do you know what these are?”

Maple looked at the sample, and back at their deed. There were no corner marks mentioned. “No?”

“That’s because they’re illegal.” Sidon picked up a marker and circled the marks, the ID number, and other aspects of the deed. “This is an extended deed, done between the merchant and the person who actually owns the rights to the Market Space. At a glance, it looks correct, but recognizing these marks shows us that the person you took the space from was illegally renting it from someone else. No wonder they were so quick to run.”

“So, only the person who owns the deed can run the space, even if they’re not a merchant?” Maple leaned over Sidon’s arm to stare at the deed’s tale-tell signs. 

“In short, yes.” Sidon waved his hand. “But the actual laws of it are a bit more complicated, and there are exceptions, but I could take hours to explain the exceptions alone. For now, yes; only the deed holder can run the space.”

“So we have to find the person who actually owns it.” Maple sighed. “That means more searching and legwork.” 

“That’s half of what being a merchant is.” Sidon sighed. “One part legwork, the other part paperwork. That’s what seperates the good merchants and the scams. A good merchant will make art of the legwork and a scam artist puts all his work into avoiding it.”

Maple found herself catching a glance at Gannon. He wasn’t even looking at the table. She knew it was because he couldn’t read yet. There was still plenty to learn from the paper- the type of paper, the placement of the markings, what general  _ fields _ there were text in, but no. Gannon only sat there looking at his hands. 

She put her hand on her throat and sat back down. Gannon had caught it out of the corner of his eye. All of his muscles scrunched together until he couldn’t take the pressure. He got up, signed to Sidon [ _ I’m sorry _ ] and scrambled into the hall. 

Sidon audiablly sighed. He pushed the paper aside. Fine, this would have to wait. It was time to deal with the elephant in the room. “Maple, are you alright?”

She nodded. Then she shrugged. Then she shook her head. Politeness, doubt, honesty, in order. “I’m not hurt, and that should  _ matter _ , but it  _ doesn’t _ .”

Sidon wasn’t good at this part. This was the part where his sister had strengths. He was good at the large crowds, the paparazzi and the persuasion. His sister was better with one-on-one, the personable things, the  _ healing _ inside and out. Mipha was asleep, and she still had plenty of work to do. 

They sat in silence for a few moments. Neither of them knew how to navigate the situation. Even Link seemed to be better with this whole thing than they. Sidon now realized how odd this sounded. Maybe he was the person to talk to about this. Last Sidon checked, Link was still asleep (at least, no one had gone to wake him). The thought occured to him that he should go get Gannon, instead of letting him wander around in the halls. 

“Come on.” Sidon stood up. He held out his hand for Maple. She just stared at it. “I can’t have him wander off, and I am not losing sight of you. I can’t say I know what’s going on, but I know what I cannot allow right now. The rest will have to be sorted out after.”

Maple obliged. She put her tiny hylian-child hand in his large hand. His palm was big enough to hide her hand in it, even without his fingers, which meant he had to hold on loosely so as not to crush her. She stared at his long claws. She forgot some Zora had them. She forgot  _ Eko _ had them. She remembered sitting at the dinner table with Granma Syrup when Gannon first took the name. Maple felt unsure about being his sister then, and now for entirely different reasons, she felt unsure again. It was  _ frustrating _ . 

“Uncle Sidon?”

“Hm?” He looked over his shoulder at her, so he could keep one eye on where they were going. He couldn’t find Gannon anywhere. He had only just left, where did he go?! 

”I’m not afraid of him,” Maple said. It wasn’t the statement Sidon expected. “I know everyone thinks I’m going to be. I just know he wasn’t himself last night; just like when Link wasn’t himself while making the cake.”

Sidon did not know what she was talking about. 

“I guess it’s just like Granma Syrup said.” Maple glanced at the guards. “Hurting people hurt people, and when they’re not themselves, they hurt the most.” 

Sidon squeezed her hand in comfort. “You’re rather astute, Maple.”

“I know.” Maple took a moment to think to herself. “That’s why I’m gonna be a great witch.”

 

Gannon had become a lot like Link in quite a few regards; everyone had noticed. This was why everyone was searching high and low for Gannon. No one had found where he was hiding. Link was looking in all his old hiding spots, but there was no little red child to be found. In this instance, however, Gannon and Link were  _ quite _ different. He was not the one to be hiding. That’s why the only person who wasn’t searching high and low for Gannon was the Zora Queen. They were sitting in the throne room together, sharing a spot of tea. 

Gannon sat in her lap cupping the tea with both of his hands. Since it was just the Queen and a pair of close, trusted guards, he was allowed to be himself. This made the teacup much easier to hold. The Queen wrapped leaves of her silk dressings around his shoulders. Her lap was the most comfortable place he’d ever been, lightly damp and all. He sat with her for some time in a maternal quiet that didn’t demand any answers of him. 

The boy had a lot of thoughts that would one day be questions. Right now they were just a knot a anxieties and doubts, hurtful thoughts and an endless supply of  _ What-Ifs _ . They were scary to think, but at least in the Queen’s lap they lost their sting. For all their nasty statements, she was bigger than them. It was like contronting them with padding on. When his tea was finished he asked for more. She happily obliged him. 

Six cups of tea later, Gannon had to use the bathroom pretty badly. She helped him down off her lap. One of the guards took him by the hand. The bathroom wasn’t far. Ganon left the bathroom relieved, body and soul. The hour would change the way he thought about comfort for years to come. Violence didn’t have to be the answer, and apparently, sometimes talking wasn’t the answer either. He asked the guard to help him get back to Sidon so he could finish his lessons. The guard, of course, did just that. 

No one explained where Gannon had been, only that he was doing better now. Sidon took him and Maple back to the office. They spent most of the day going over papers, planned to find the rightful owner of the space in the market, and coaxed Gannon to look at the characters of the modern languages. It was a dull day for the three of them. They didn’t resent it; sometimes the monotonous was a balm over the great drama of life. 

When the sun threatened to set, the kids packed their bags. Link coached them on tricks to pack more things into fewer bags. Even without his advice, they were better at discerning what to take with them and what to leave behind. The kids were becoming accustomed to travel and no one was sure how to feel about it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Link pulled Epona off the dirt path. Maple curved in to follow. He led them down the slope toward a muddy pond. It had an odd smell; not quite death but certainly unpleasant. Perhaps it was the fermenting plants in the mud, or the smell of animals. Gannon and Maple recoiled to it. The dark was setting in. 

“Are we setting up camp  _ here? _ ” Maple hung in the air on her broomstick. It was hard to find dry grass the closer they got to the mud. “Is this to build character?”

That got a good chuckle out of Link. “No, we’re only stopping here for a moment.” He thought to add  _ I’m crazed, not cruel _ , but the words didn’t come out. Perhaps it was for the best. “This is a place where things come to die, so it’s perfect for this.”

Gannon was not entertained by this statement. Maple considered leaving. She could make it to Lon Lon ranch before sundown, easy. They found themselves staying put, anyway. Link reached into his belts and pulled out a letter. It was a little bent from travel, and being overall ignored. Link took a deep breath. He spoke a phrase in a language forgotton. It translated directly to  _ Well fuck me or don’t _ , but the kids understood the tone as “bottoms up” and he would never correct them. 

He ran his thumb under the seal of the envelope and instead of pulling out the letter, threw the entire thing into the mud. Gannon was pretty sure that was not how to read a letter. Maple was about to go and  _ get it _ until the smoke hissed out. 

 Purple and charcoal smoke billowed from the envelope as it slowly sunk into the mud. It clashed together, swirled in the air and hunched over like a man about to be sick. It released itself over the mud and from the plumes bloomed the screaming face of Syrup, Witch of the Great Bay. She emerged with a deep howl. The smoke carried a laughter that had long since forgotton forgiveness.

 

_ You arrogant Spirit; you contagion of the soul, how dare you speak against the hand that vouched for your life! _

 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Link  _ grinned _ . “You’ve lost your venom. You ought to hurry, the spell will suffocate soon.”

 

_ I will cut to the quick then. _

 

It popped from the envelope like a bubble of fumes. It flew up the smoke in a whirlwind and the Smoke-Witch spat it out of her mouth like a seed. It was not a seed however. It was a chunk of glass. Maple didn’t see it hit Link, but he hunched over, clutching his face with a pained snarl. There was blood on his ear. 

 

_ Maple, enough of this nonsense. Leave these Inevitable Disasters to their own devices and come finish your schooling. You can run off as you please when you’re fully fledged. It’s just not healthy yet, dear. _

 

Gannon didn’t need to turn around to know that Maple had her hand, thoughtfully, on her neck. Link was gagging beside him, waiting for the lights to come apart. Maple was grimacing at her own thoughts. Gannon couldn’t keep his own thoughts together to find anything to say. 

 

_ Do make up your mind before he comes back together; Maple. He doesn’t take as long as he used to. It’s not a tough decision to make. _

 

“You were already thinking of going, weren’t you?” Gannon finally managed. He wanted to bury his face in Epona’s mane to hide. He had a suspicion that there was no hiding from Syrup, though. 

Maple thought to nod, thought to shake her head. “We have plans at the Castle. I swore an oath. I’ve already made a lot of decisions based on how I felt. And… I know how you felt- lost and scared and angry. Well, not you, but… another you. It was a mistake.”

_ And this oath was a mistake, but it is what it is. _ They thought. They didn’t say it aloud. They didn’t tell one another that they had thought the same thing. They only sat in silence under the smothering gaze of the Witch. The lights at the edge of the mud came together and dumped Link right into the soggy grass. 

He sat up, stared at the smoke, and flipped Syrup the bird. He muttered a song under his breath and punched the edge of the mud. As his knuckles slapped the tense surface, he cast Din’s Fire. The whole puddle went up like a grease fire, taking the letter and the spell with it. The smoke sputtered and sparked until it dispersed in the smouldering bog. 

Link pulled himself out of the mud. It sucked around his boots. Epona laughed her wheeziest at his expense. Gannon scooched up on the horse’s saddle to make room for Link, but the smell of the bogwater was enough to make him queasy. He ended up flying with Maple to keep from getting sick. 

Flying together on the Broomstick, unsure of what they wanted to do or what they  _ should  _ be doing, was a long ride. No one spoke all the way back to Hyrule Castle. They arrived late, tired and well ready to sleep. The next morning they would start the schedule that would outline many years to come. Tomorrow was Monday, and that was the day that Zelda took over the schedule for good. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Link felt significantly better after a good shower. He had taken the opportunity of getting the kids to bed to use one of the showers  _ inside _ the castle, as opposed to the ones in the barracks. For all the things he did not like about his life this time around, the Zora invention of  _ indoor plumbing _ made up for a lot of it. Living out in the Lost Wood for a bit only drove that home. He ruffled the towel around his hair to get the last of the water out before heading to his cot in the barracks. He shuffled into his nightclothes and tossed the bogwatered ones into the chute. Internally, he apologized to the servant staff. 

He heard her coming down the hall before she knocked on the door. He knew this was intentional. He caught himself bracing. He threw the towel around his shoulders and opened the door out into the hall. She stood in her pajamas, the ones she had worn out a bit but refused to part with. 

“Hey,” she said, softly. “How are you feeling?”

He nodded. “Better, thank you.”

Guards loitered nearby, pretending not to be following her. They stood together. They carried the posture of a quiet conversation but they didn’t speak. They were listening. Tense moments in the night were perfect for the best gossip and Link couldn’t even blame them. 

“May I speak with you?” Regal posture, sheepish facial expression. “Not at you, genuinely  _ with _ you?”

Perhaps the better question, the one she meant, was  _ are you able _ . Link wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep in his own bed, but the cot would have to do. He missed having a coffin lid to filter out the noises of the castle at night. Right, she had asked him a question. He didn’t want to say no, outright. 

“Something wrong?”

She tilted her head.  _ Sort of _ . “It’s just, you’re gone for a bit, then we had to arrest you, and then you were a wolf for a bit, and it won’t be long until you’re all over Hyrule again. To be honest I got to spend more time with you while you were a dog than when you’re you.”

“I missed you too,” he summerized. “Are you doing okay?”

Her face stuttered at the direct question, circumventing the usual loops of conversation. “Yes, I’m fine. I have a few things I’m working on, but my more interesting projects are waiting on the Magi right now.”

“So instead of sleeping, you’re thinking about them.”

She laughed, “Inevitably.”

“You should take a vacation, Zelda.” Link meant it. “You’ve been up to your nose in paperwork.”

She furrowed her brow. “Don’t you mean up to my eyes?”

He touched his thumb to her nose and gently turned her face in the light. “No. You literally have a papercut on your nose. Did you put ointment on it?”

“It’s just-”

“Did you?”

“I’ll do it when I get back to my quarters.” She brushed his hand from her face. Gentle touches, soft gestures. “Honestly I’m happy to be back to the work. While you were gone I was kept away from a lot of it. If it wasn’t for the military campaigns I would have been driven mad in the first season. Now I can get back to policies and trying to balance some of trade deals...”

She trailed off. She wasn’t sure how interesting her paperwork could possibly be to him. The towel on his shoulders was making his shirt damp. She knew that it didn’t bother him too much- he wouldn’t be sleeping in it. She still wanted to fix it. She wanted to see him back in his silks, heading back to the armoury he slept in. She missed the pranks he left through her morning routine. She missed the music that would drift through her window in the dead of night, or the arrows with silly drawings that would fly in during the day. She wanted things to go back, obviously, but she knew the rational choice was finding a better way forward. 

“You technically get off on weekends with your platoon, don’t you?” She crossed her arms. She tried to copy his sly smile. 

He shrugged. “That’s up to the boss. You know Impa doesn’t like us slacking off. I could do to put some extra work in, too...” 

“Then how about we spar Saturday evening?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “This sounds suspiciously like a  _ date _ , your highness.” 

“Only to you.” 

He tilted his head. Perhaps. “What about the kids?”

“Impa will be escorting them to the Zora Tradecity from now on.” Zelda’s hand spun her fingers around her words like a presentation. “She  _ did _ take responsibility for Maple, and she could use the opportunity to relax.”

“She won’t take it, of course.”

“Oh, of course not.” They laughed. “Did you?”

He nodded. Zelda raised her eyebrows with pleasant surprise. She had that sharpness to her eyes that cried out for details. Link found himself torn between the craving for emotional privacy and the burst for excellent gossip. No, Sidon was already going through enough on his account. “Mipha says hello, by the by.”

“Oh, I keep meaning to write to her.” Zelda rubbed her upper arm. “We’ve been sending letters back and forth for a while now, and I just keep not getting to it.”

“She’s equally busy.” Link soothed. Perhaps more-so. He thought to add more about how her medical research was going, but he was interrupted by his own all-consuming yawn. 

“Right- sorry.” Zelda gently touched his shoulder. It was more warmth than he had expected. He stiffened under his touch. He tried to relax to keep her from worrying, but her eyes fell. Her voice shed decibals and took on a softness like feathers. “Sleep well, Link.”

He nodded. “You too, Princess.”

He waited for her to turn the corner before turning away. He felt guilty for not being able to relax under her touch. It wasn’t that he felt he ought to trust her- no, they had grown up together. He had never met true siblings with complete trust. However, she didn’t seem to look disappointed at his tension anymore. She didn’t look surprised. Link worried that she was blaming herself. 

_ You cannot keep avoiding the subject for another twelve years. _

Thankfully, Link was not like Zelda. Despite his thoughts, he fell asleep the moment his face hit the pillow. Memories took over. They were more sexual than violent for once, and in the morning Link would find himself needing another shower. 

 


	33. Not Here to Pay Respects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized a continuity hiccup in the last scene of the chapter, so that's been fixed. [12/9/19]

They  _ knew _ Zelda liked books. They were aware of the concept. However the  _ depth _ of Zelda’s appreciation for the things hit them- well, like a ton of books. There were books for history. There were books for mathematics. There were books for literacy, for which she openly relished the irony. There were books of every shape of size and- for Gannon, who much of writing in his memories were either letters or scolls, more  _ lightweight _ things for a  _ heavily nomadic people _ \- these books were overwhelming.

For Maple they were a refuge. With Ganon’s limited literacy she had all the excuse in the world to hide behind a tome like a fortress. Still, as they studied and as he meditated with Zeel at night, it was like watching him learn to ride all over again. She had to learn everything for the first time while he was  _ remembering _ . She needed more time to study, more time to take in the lessons. What bothered her more was that he was all too willing to give her that time. He didn’t keep her company unless she asked. Worse, he never started a conversation. She could see his eyes light up with a thought or an idea, only to glaze over. She  _ tried _ not to touch the scarring on her neck. It wasn’t even  _ bad, _ only looking like a misplaced- albeit heavy- tan. She tried to make it look like she was adjusting her collar, or scratching an itch, but they were never convincing. After a couple of days alone she couldn’t take the walking on eggshells anymore. 

After learning the basic ideas of Logics that Tuesday evening, Maple waited for their professor to shuffle out. Gannon sat at his desk. He had torn off a piece of his notebook at was making a lopsided origami star they had learned in crafts that morning. She threw her bag over her shoulder. He glanced at her, but kept his focus on his star. 

“I found a series of hidden passages under the cemetary.” Maple announced. Gannon’s looked up with anticipation. “Meet me under the Copper Horse after dark.”

The horse itself was coated in a thick layer of rust. Warm oranges from the torchposts highlighted the copper beast’s teal and turqoise. Gannon had to walk under it to give the graves their respectful space. He stared up into the horse’s furious glare. It was reared up, ready to stomp down at the visitors below. Its mane was billowing on the wind. He could have sworn the horse was still alive; only standing super, super still. If the horse were to break loose, there was no bit, no bridle, no saddle and certianly no rider to stop it from rampaging. It was a good way to keep folks from finding a secret passage, Gannon decided. 

Maple was one part relieved and one part apprehensive to see him. She was glad that he actually came. Going to the cemetary was bad enough, but to do it at night, alone, when you had already lied to Impa that you were meeting Ganon in the Library, well she had every reason to be nervous. Now at least it was only a half-lie. She had, in fact, met up with Ganon. The only problem now was that she had to go  _ through _ her little plan to sneak into these secret passages under the graves. She bottled all of this up neatly and put on snarky airs. 

“About time you showed up,” she scoffed. “I was gonna go down without you.”

“Sorry, had a hard time getting away from Mom.” That was no fib. After trying three times to escape from a bathroom, or sneak away from her side, it took a lie that he was going to go talk to Link in the barraks for her to finally let him out of her sight. They were going to kill him for this, but with any luck what they found down there would be worth it. He looked about the ground, but there was no door. “How do we get down there from here?”

Maple laid down her broom, knelt into the dirt and groped the base of the horse statue. Her fingers found a small ledge, a groove that was intended as a grip. She reached up, took his hand and guided him to the groove. “We have to pull it all the way back.” 

“The whole statue?” Gannon hissed. “But it’s huge!” 

“No, I think this is a block that’s tucked into the base. Besides, why are  _ you _ worried? Use your…” She couldn’t say Power, and it bothered her. “Yanno your thing.” 

The boy looked away from her and his hand. “If it’s just a block maybe we can pull it ourselves.” 

Maple didn’t press it. They dug their heels into the soil. They adjusted their tiny fingers to have the maximum hold on the block. With a few false starts, they got the hang of pulling at the count of three. They strained, they groaned, and just as they were about to give in- they heard stone slide against stone. 

“It moved!” Her voice was cut down to a breath. Their hands were coarse, their shoulders sore, and their knees couldn’t take the pose anymore. “Okay, take a quick break and then try again?”

Gannon looked at the stone. “No. No we can do this. One more time.” 

She nodded. They took a deep breath, dug their heels into the graves behind them, and pulled with all of their might. Gannon bit the bullet and embraced the power within. The block came lose from it’s statue and the kids tumbled backwards into the tombstones of long gone soldiers. Gannon let the lights from his eyes and hand fade and sat down in the dirt. They caught their breath. Maple got up and tethered her broom to her back. She took Gan’s hand and led him around the stone. They saw in the side of the block was an arch doorway cut into the side. It led them to a deep spiral staircase. Just around the bend, a torch took to fire all on its own. 

Maple took the first step. “Welp, ladies first.” 

They followed the steps down into the earth. As they left the light of one torch, a new one lit up ahead. There were no runes, no murals, no hint as to what waited for them down below. 

“Yanno,” Gannon watched a new torch light up. “I don’t feel as scared as I thought I would be.”

Maple smiled. “It’s too exciting to be scared! I mean, there could be  _ anything _ down here!”

_ There could be anything down here _ . The less favourable options came to mind. Now they felt a small amount of fear. Gannon put a hand on her shoulder. Maple winced. He put his hands back at his side in small fists. “Listen, if we come across any monsters, just… let me handle it, okay?” 

“You can fight?” 

“I mean,” Gannon looked at his fist. “I think I just have better luck with monsters.” 

“Oh,” Awkward pauses. Words unspoken. “Right.”

At the bottom of the stairs, torches lit up in rapid succession. Small fires illuminated the small room, made of simple earth and clay. There were three doors one to each of the other three walls. The lopsided square had the stairs as a fourth exit. In the center of the room was a shallow pool of water. It was framed with small, smooth stones, but otherwise had no marking. Maple and Gannon walked up to the water’s edge and gazed at their own reflections. 

“It’s a mirror pool.” The voice came from Gannon’s pocket. Zeel yawned, stretched and shed his fairy dust all across the surface of the water. “Where did you kids find one of these?”

“We’re underground.” Gannon pointed up. A thin root stuck out of the ceiling. “We’re under the cemetary.” 

Zeel’s bold red light darkened. “So you’re down here  _ graverobbing _ ?” 

“No!” Maple snapped. She straightened up and knit her arms across her chest. “How dare you! Not everything in a graveyard is a grave. We’re under a statue. I checked it all over for names and there was nothing. The base is a flat slab of stone. If this is a mirror pool, then perhaps you should  _ stay _ here, Zeel.”

His colour softened. “And leave you two alone? Oh no. A much as I would love to hog a mirror pool to myself I have a hunch you two didn’t tell anyone where you were going.”

Their silence condemned them. 

“Just as I thought. I can enjoy this pool on our way back. Let’s make sure there’s nothing but keese down here, and head right back up.” 

“What’s a Mirror Pool,” Gannon squeezed in. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“It’s a small puddle of blessed water.” Maple shrugged. “Faries can absorb power from them, so there’s usually a lot of them around one.” 

Zeel rocked in the air. “Not  _ quite _ . Mirror Pools are simply shallow bodies of water that can reflect light, but treated properly they can reflect magic as well. They are common where fey are because we know how to take care of them. That’s why Great Faries, for wean or for woe, are usually surrounded by them. They’re like… magical insulators, in a sense. This is truly refreshing.”

“So why is it down here?” Maple smiled. “There  _ has _ to be something cool if there’s a mirror pool.” 

“Agreed.” Gannon reflected her ambition in his eyes. He held out his hands and Zeel settled into them. The fairy’s spirit, however, grew restless. “Let’s see. I think most people would go straight ahead first, or maybe to the right. Let’s go left instead. See what’s down that way.” 

Maple shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

As they passed through the arch, Zeel felt the air change. Maple scratched her ankle, absentmindedly, against the back of her other leg. She couldn’t get rid of the itch. She scratched her ankle with each step. Gannon held Zeel in one hand so he could scratch the back of his hand. The kids talked about what they might find, or where the tunnels may lead to, but the itching grew worse. Gannon bent down to itch the back of his hand against the floor while he used his free hand to scratch his ankle. 

As he pulled down the sock into his shoe, he froze. What was burning, itching, festering was the brand of the Deku Flower. Maple stared at his mark and pulled down her own sock. She couldn’t calm it. 

“I think this is what we call an omen, kids.” Zeel flew up out of Gannon’s hand. From where Maple knelt down, she could see that what he was scratching was his piece of the Triforce itself. “I think that’s a cue that we should leave.” 

“That means there’s something  _ good _ down here!” Maple objected. “A mirror pool, an irritating defense? I’m not saying I’m gonna  _ take _ what’s down here, but I at least want to see it! It could be important! Look, his piece of the Triforce is reacting to…  _ whatever _ it is. I think something down here  _ belongs _ to him.”

Gannon glanced between his hand and Maple. There were  _ plenty _ of memories where the Hylian nation confiscated much of Gerudo relics. They took away swords, orbs, magical artifacts, and his stomach churned as his thoughts drifted to all the  _ people _ they had taken away in chains. He pulled his sock up over the burn. Resolve cured over his worries. He took a torch from the sconce on the wall. He could feel the magic keeping the fire alive buzz into his palm. 

“Let’s go.” Gannon took the lead. He lead through the archway at the end of the hall. There were only two torches in the room. They hung about the arch, but the rest of the room was dark. The ceiling reached toward the surface. The structure was not unlike a library, with walls that didn’t touch the ceiling rising up like columns. They had long shelves carved into the stone. The major difference was what the shelves held. They were not books. 

“Oh, this isn’t a  _ grave _ ,” Zeel kept his complaints at a whisper. “ _ I checked _ .”

“There weren’t any names on the stone!” Maple objected. She couldn’t take her eyes off the rows and rows of bodies. Some were wrapped tight. Some were just piles of bones with heavy layers of dust. There were no names on the shelves, either. “Why are there so many people down here?”

While Zeel and Maple argued about people, Gannon’s thoughts wandered. He hadn’t seen a single keese. There should have been at least one or two in the hall, but he could understand them fleeing the light. Here, however, in this room of many dead, and plenty of darkness out of reach of his torch, he couldn’t even hear them. There was no guano, either, come to think of it.  _ All _ creatures, beasts, men 0and monsters alike, left  _ leavings _ . The itching was worse. 

“-and if these are people that fell to a sickness, all the more  _ reason we shouldn’t be here. _ ” Zeel was starting to gain volume. He caught himself. “But even then, why would they be buried without names?”

“Because no one cared about their names.” Gannon’s weighted heart stole the strength out of their argument. “But… these people aren’t Gerudo, either. The skeletons are wrong.” 

“...What do you mean?”

“Their hips are wrong. Most of these people appear to be male.”

Zeel lowered his hover. Maple stared at Gannon’s back. The fairy fluttered over to her shoulder. He whispered into her ear, but Gannon knew what was being said. “He’s right. We’ve… we’ve seen enough dead to know.”

Maple put her hand on a shelf and looked over the bones. She couldn't tell one way or another. She glanced up at the legions of shelves around them. "Maybe they're all soldiers." 

"Aren't they buried with their weapons?" Gannon peered into one shelf after another. "These people don't have anything." 

"Well, it could have been during a time of shortage." Zeel lacked the morbid curiosity of the children. Instead he had a morbid hunger. There were so many old bones, so many things for him to devour. There was no one to share it with, either. These bodies had never known the flame- so there was no energy for new fairies to be born of. There was absolutely nothing to disturb these dead. It was peaceful. It was unnatural. 

"Well, there's clearly nothing to find here. We should keep moving." Maple took Gan by the hand. They squeezed one another's fingers until it hurt. "Clearly anything worth seeing is further up." 

"Oh no." Zeel flew after them, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. "You two are not prepared for a deep dive of a tomb. We've had our grim discovery, so let us leave the dead to their slumber." 

Gannon bent down to scratch his ankle again. "There's something big down here, and once my folks find out we won't be able to come back. Knowing Dad he'll seal this place off for good. No, it's now or never." 

"So you are fully aware that you're in the wrong?" Zeel snapped. His voice reverberated into an echo. It was soft and fragile in its waves, but the disturbance sent chills down their spine. "And yet you still won't turn back?"

"I said my parents won't like it." Gannon glared Zeel down. His feet were rooted against the stone. His shoulders lay level, his chin high. For the first time, Zeel got to see Gannon wear the posture of a King. "I said nothing about being wrong." 

Maple and Gan walked side by side. He held his torch at arm's length so they could see ahead. Zeel flew behind them, providing his red light for them to see over their shoulders by. Row after row, column after column, there lay nothing but the bones of the departed. There were no helmets. There were no trinkets. There were no clothes, aside from the occasional gauze that bound the bones together.

They left the room behind. A short hall led to another small room of branching paths. Stale and still air hung in every doorway. There were no runes, no markings, no decor. Gannon's torch was now the only light. The sconces were few, and they were empty. He passed the torch to Maple so he could scratch the back of his hand. 

"This is ridiculous." Maple muttered. "They can't all just lead to mass graves. There's has to be  _ something _ -" 

She was cut off by the sound of pebbles tumbling. There was the sound of bones clunking together. Maple held up the torch highter. Somewhere in a soul that hoped against logic, she prayed for the torch to make sound visible. It did not work. Gannon scratched his hand harder. 

"Can you stop that?" Maple hissed. He shook his head. "You don't see me tearing my ankle apart." 

"My ankle is nothing compared to how bad this is. It  _ burns _ ." Gannon doubled over his hand. He slapped it, sucked on it, but the light pulsed dim and kept itching. "Fire has never hurt before, and now I'm burning up without it!" 

"I need you both to be very still." Zeel whispered. The kids did their best. Gannon at least made his scratches slow and deep. His skin was breaking underneath his nails. Maple's long ears pricked at the silence. Gannon strained to listen; but could only hear the gentle hum of Zeel, or the unsteady breathing of Maple. The fairy floated down to land on Gannon’s hand. The feathery beat of his wings against Gannon’s hand were a balm. The three listened to the mortal silence of the tomb until time stretched into infinity. Maple’s patience was the first to break. 

“Come-”

The sound of metal hitting stone. It carried weight greater than the children themselves. Maple clung to the torch in her hand. She clung to Gannon. Chilled wind like venomous gossip plucked at the fine hairs on her back. Zeel was the only one to look over their shoulders. He was the only one to act. He flung his fairy self at the sound for he could see who made it. Zeel knew this was not a wise decision, but he did not care for the consequences of inaction. As Zeel flew into action, time and terror lost their grip on the children and they bolted forward. 

Someone was behind them. They knew, they  _ instinctively knew _ it was no one alive. Gannon forced himself to think of that. He forced himself to remember that he was not the King of the Gerudo, not solely. He pried Maple’s hand off of his. He had planned to turn around and face the undead. He looked down at the floor and the undead behind him glowed so that the boy cast a shadow. Despite knowing he was a king, he had the shadow of a boy. He couldn’t turn around. He couldn’t move. His heart was in his ears and time was still moving wrong and-

“I’m  _ not leaving you _ !” Maple’s voice broke through the ice crawling over his senses. She wasn’t grabbing his hand to run. Instead, she was facing him, hand on his shoulder. She was trying not to look at the undead behind Gan. She was focused on the boy she had sworn to see to the throne. Clarity scorched through them as the itching and burning on their ankles flared. Maple dropped to a knee beside him. She couldn’t stop scratching. 

Gauntlets, vambraces, dense smog and then a pauldron. The fingers snatched up Maple by her hair and dragged her to her feet. She stumbled backwards, fighting to keep up with the armour. Gannon saw the scarred patch of skin as her chin lurched up. Guilt overflowed fear. Then he remembered that he was in the present. 

He had the power to act. He kept his eyes on Maple. The armour threw her down on the cobblestones. Even in this moment Maple had snark on her tongue.  _ Lay hands on a lady, would you?! Go on then, piss off a witch! _ Gannon gripped the power deep in his soul. He drowned out the itching with a fire of his own. He was greater than any irritant spell in this place. He kept his eyes on Maple. He was awake. He was in control this time. He felt Zeel land on his shoulder. The fairy lent the boy his focus, his clarity, his affirmation. 

Fire blazed across the hall. The flashfire made soot of the dust. It scattered outward like a blast, pushing stale air into a whirlwind of hot gales. It blew the hair out of Maple’s face, but the flames did not touch her. As they blinked out she met Gannon’s eyes. She could see him by the light of the armour’s glow, blue-green as the rust of the copper horse above. Soft, overpowering highlights and shadows clashed against Gannon’s warm colours. In this dead and morbid place he was a flaring star. Maple watched his face- and she knew it at once. Unlike the nightmare, where through the lights within he stared into space, Gannon was looking directly at her. He held his hand in a fist over his chest. He breathed like a bull. It was going to get brighter in here. 

Maple scuttled backward. She flicked her eyes to the armour. Looking into the helm she saw that the armour was held up not by bones; not like the Stalfos of the field, but by a shadow made solid. It’s one eye smouldered red, as if it had lost the other long, long ago. She saw its hand feeling for a sword, but at the armours hip was no sword, no scabbard, no shield. She scuttled backward. The handle of her broomstick scraped against the stone. The armour took a step to close the gap.

An inferno consumed the width of the hall. Maple felt its heat as a furnace in summer. It sucked the oxygen out of her mouth and blew ashes into her face. Through half-closed eyes she saw the fires like the inside of the armour. The light of its eye dimmed. She could feel it’s irritation swell. The armour turned away from her. 

_ I need to strike while it isn’t looking! _ Maple thought to herself. She realized she had nothing to strike with. Her broom would be consumed in the fires, and no matter how she may beat against the metal, she had nothing to dispose of a shade. She had no potions for treating the living dead. She stood anyway. The shade turned slowly through the fire. Maple pushed up her sleeves-

A cold hand gripped her arm. Her squeal tripped on the back of her tongue and instead she choked on her shock. She pulled away- and it  _ let go _ . Her eyes snapped about as she pivoted to see. Small, barely taller than Maple herself, stood a cool blue woman. Her eyes were brimming with tears of the ether. She held out her hand. Maple expected common sense to beckon, but there was no inner voice of warning. Maple took the ghost woman’s hand and together they fled the armour, the fire, and the fight. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

_ Link _

 

_ Link, open your eyes!  _

 

Link bolted up in his bunk, beat his forehead against the wooden frame of Tamo’s bunk above, and fell back onto the hard, standard issue, pillow. Ato was the first to wake to the sound. The twins would rouse next. They checked Link for his lights before speaking. He waved that he was fine. No one believed him, especially when he tapped his bare wrist in reply.

<Zelda, I’m up. I’m up. What’s wrong?> He signed as he thought, only to realize he no longer had a bracelet to answer her with. He rubbed his eyes. Of course not; the one time he wanted to be able to speak to her with his thoughts, he couldn’t. He took a deep breath. Was she using a spell? Did she  _ always _ have this spell? Before his thoughts could drift further, her voice filled his mind again.

_ I am in the study with Loamol. When Gannon comes to you, have him meet us here. _

He blinked. Okay.

There was a pause. Zelda was thinking of how to phrase her statement in a way that would be less alarming. He could feel that tension over her line, even if it was riddled with static.  _ He’s spelunking. Take a spear. Range will be beneficial, but not for long. _

Spelunking? There were no caves nearby. There weren’t any decent cave systems for at least half a day’s ride. The only- 

Link’s heart stopped. It dropped deep into the acid of his stomach and he felt his dinner jump up his esophogus to make room. He waved to his squadron. He signed it twice before he could get the gasping whisper out. “Spear.  _ Spear _ . And a shield.”

He could feel the lights creeping up from within. He could feel Courage pulling at his strings. His tongue tasted of malice and anger and grief. He couldn’t give in.  _ He couldn’t give in _ . As the lights flickered over his eyes he blinked them back. He got to his feet, shoved them down the mouths of his boots and then remembered he was not wearing pants. Ato handed him a spear. 

“What’s wrong?”

He stuttered. He fought to get out of his boots and it was Lo who found his pants. Ko put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Tamo was finally rousing. “They’re disturbing my  _ rest _ .”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


	34. Me vs Myself and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do... I need to put up warnings for this. Um. Fire, Ghosts, and... I mean technically someone is a bit nibbled on but it's not too graphic so you should be good. It's fine.

The fire consumed the width of the hallway. Dust from the dead burst into soot and ash. The clay of the walls baked around the flames. In the center, the Armour turned around on small steps. With no kindling to keep the fires burning they fizzled out. The only fires left were the ones that clung to the moss and the rust on the armour. A flame licked up the inside of the armour’s boot. The helmet turned to face Gannon and one, dull red, beady eye looked out from under the helm. With no face it made one clear expression- _annoyance_. 

Gannon shouted at the armour. Flames roared back up into the hallway. The oxygen in the hall was thinning and only the convection of suddenly hot air was moving new breathable air in. This second flash fire snuffed out sooner than the first. The armour didn’t need much time to act. Instead of balling its gauntlet into a fist, or brandishing anything else as a weapon, it used the fires to cloak its transformation. 

The armour answered the unasked question. As the fires blew out, instead of the imposing, empty armour, an etherial golden wolf stood in its place. One red eye glowed. Gannon choked. Maple had been right in a sense. All of these dead were soldiers. They were never buried with their weapons, Gannon now realized, because they all  _ shared it _ . There were no names because who they had been wasn’t important. All that mattered was their Title. 

No wonder his Piece of the Triforce was so uncomfortable here. It wasn’t a spell. It wasn’t an infection. Every member of this tomb  _ loathed _ him. Every dead body, every corpse, had spent their entire lives,  _ their many deaths _ in hatred of Gannon. A small voice in him thought it was ironic, that the contempt of one person for another could be so potent in someone painted as so unblemishably noble. 

The wolf snarled. It’s pale gold teeth flickered on the air as it moved. Gannon stared at it, and the wolf stared into his very soul. It was just him, Zeel and the wolf and-  _ Where’s Maple?! _

“Zeel, Maple’s gone!” Gannon’s voice sounded so loud against the crackling silence of the tomb. “Where’s Maple?! What did you do with-”

Zeel slapped the back of Gannon’s hand. With his tiny fairy hands he pulled the boy back. Gannon felt like putty, just heavy enough to resist common sense and not sturdy enough to make any decisions of his own. Zeel dropped his hand and flew into the boy’s face. “ _ Go get your father. _ ”

“Maple-”

“If anyone can save her, it’s  _ him _ .” Zeel pulled on Gannon’s nose and directed the boy like a horse. They didn’t think about it being unwise to turn one’s back on a wolf. They didn’t think about how far they had to run. Gannon was barely thinking and Zeel’s only thought was  _ abandon ship _ . Gannon stumbled. The hair on the back of his head prickled as the wolf coiled to strike. He had to believe he had the ability to live, the ability to run, and the simple act of getting help. He dug deep, embraced his Power with desperation as only a mortal could, and flared his flames through the hall behind him. 

Gannon had never sprinted before. All he knew was that his lungs were bursting, his legs had no idea how to work together anymore and the archways were further away than he remembered. He could hear the wolf’s claws against the baking clay. He could hear the plumes of fire roar and hiss out. Tomorrow he would feel guilty that he didn’t think of Maple while he was running. 

He didn’t stop until he dodged the mirror pool. Zeel pulled him toward the stairs, and then flew back. Gannon hesitated. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to hold it here if I can.” Zeel shook dust over Gannon’s hair. “Mirror pools are meant to reflect, to contain, to fold magic in on itself. I’m sorry, I’m using a fair bit of your power to do so, but I can’t do it long. Go!” 

As Zeel took his place above the water, Gannon’s hand felt heavy. His piece of the triforce glowed bright, then dimmed to a hum, and then bright enough to light the stairs again. He could think about that later. He could ask about the spells and how heavy he felt and how free it was to have magic flowing out of him so consistantly-  _ later _ . Gannon dropped to all fours to scramble faster up the stairs. He didn’t need the torches to light his way, which was good, because by the time they knew he was coming he was pratically past them. He burst out of the block under the Horse Statue, slammed into a gravestone, tripped on a tree root and then pushed his last strength of running for the barracks. He heard the guards call out to him. He didn’t hear what they were saying. 

Gannon did not know his way through the barracks, but tonight it would not be needed. Anyone who saw him directed him with a dramatic pointing.  _ We know who you want. That way. _

Link was already standing outside his barracks with a spear in his left hand and a shield on his right. He was wearing a chainmail shirt with barely a vest underneath. Link dropped to a knee to catch the boy who had forgotton how to slow down. Gan wrapped his arms around Link’s neck, and Link embraced him. Gan felt the shield behind his back as Link hugged him close to his chest. Finally he felt safe from the Golden Wolf. Gan finally remembered Maple.

‘She’s still-” He pointed back to the cemetary. “She-”

“I know.” Link’s voice was level, deceptively calm and a few inflections short of furious. He put down the spear and put both hands on Gan’s shoulders. “I need you to do three things.”

“O-Okay?”

“One. Meet Princess Zelda and your mother in the study. Do exactly what she tells you to do. Two. She is going to hide you. Do  _ not _ leave until sunrise.  _ Under no cercomstances _ do you come out until the sun hits the castle. Three. Do  _ not _ let me in.” 

Gannon stared into the blue eyes of the hero. He could see the light of the triforce flickering in his pupils, but never taking hold. Link was fighting it. Link was actively controlling as many of his own muscles, his own functions, as he could. 

“Repeat it back to me.”

“One, find Mom and Zelda in the study. Two. Don’t come out until Sunrise. Three, don’t let you in.”

“And what are you going to do if I find you?”

Gannon choked. He knew. They both knew. The nightmare Gannon was suffering from over the weekend, the same harm he had cause for Maple- Link was fighting it now. He was fighting not one memory but  _ thousands _ . If Link lost, Gannon was going to be the first to suffer. If all else failed, it would be nothing but the King and the Hero. The boy could only stare back at him. 

“Gannondorf. What are you going to do if I find you?”

The boy swallowed. “I’m going to  _ win _ .” 

Link kissed his son’s forehead. He picked up his spear. Gannon turned on his heels and he started running. At least he knew the wolf, the Hero, would not follow him. It was a good distance to the study where Zelda waited. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~   
  


Maple’s footsteps echoed but her companion’s did not. It was a superflous clue. The woman already glowed a soft blue, her features were blurred, and if her clammy cold touch wasn’t enough, she also had no  _ strength _ , no  _ weight _ to her movement. Maple tried to remind herself that trusting a ghost to get her away from a ghost may not be the…  _ smartest _ decision. Still, the woman led her deeper into the crypt. 

Maple was blessed with a sense of direction. Syrup said she had gotten it from her grandfather, on her mother’s side. Maple didn’t know enough about her family tree to argue, but in this moment she could feel the ghost take her not just  _ deeper _ , but also  _ around _ . If she hazard a few rights, perhaps a room or two of shelved dead, and she’d be right back at the mirror pool. Maple was feeling pretty confident when the ghost took a sharp  _ left _ instead. 

The hall had no lights. Instead, there were more shelves engraved into the walls. These ones were empty. The hall branched out into many large rooms- each one without any bodies hiding within. This tomb was by no means full, even with all the dead already resting. The long dark hall coaxed her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

And then she saw them. A glint of light, not like a flame, but a reflection. Tucked into a corner where a room met the hall was a small dagger. It looked to be made of cheap metal and poorly made. It was rusted over its tip with, what Maple assumed, old blood. Next to it was an empty wine bottle. Maple picked up the dagger and held it gently between her fingertips. 

“Can I use this to stop the armored ghost?” Maple asked. The ghost only stared back at her. There was such sorrow in her blurry expression. “Is this like, a blessed weapon or something?”

_ No. _ The ghost mouth the word, and the word came from the cracks in the walls. It was like hearing music down the hall and under a door.  _ But it cannot stay down here. Take it with you. _

Maple narrowed her eyes, but tucked it into her belt. “What’s the big deal about having a dagger in a tomb? You’re already… well, uh-”

_ Dead, yes, we’re aware. Usually. _ The ghost put a hand to her hip.  _ But consider what the Shade would have done if he had his sword? _

Maple nodded. “Right, take the dagger out.”

_ Come, there is something else you need. _

Maple found herself weilding the dagger before long. As they wound through the rooms, the settling clay and the eternal stillness set her on edge. Her brain fumbled over the rooms, the empty halls, the unmarked graves. 

“Where am I?”

_ You are in the Tomb of the Hero. _

Maple could have slapped her forehead. Of course it was. That’s why there was a Copper Horse over it. The rusted green statue should have been clue enough, but in the hours she had travelled with Epona it was clear that she  _ allowed _ Link to ride. She was by no means a broken spirit, and allegedly, so was he. It explained why all the bones were men- wait, hadn’t Gan said ‘most’? Maple stared at the ghost and then turned her eyes to the dagger.

“Are you one of them?” Maple’s voice held reverence in her tone, afraid of what her question may find. Instead of a coy smile, or a grim nod, the ghost stopped. She took Maple’s hands in her cold ones. 

_ No. I do not carry his spirit. If I had, perhaps none of this would have happened. I should not be buried here. Still, I can understand why it was done. They wanted to make it seem as if he had died with me. Oh, Goddesses forgive me. In my fear and my youth I put myself first.  _

“What’s wrong with that?”

_ Nothing, on its own, I suppose. Still. Oh, look at me, lamenting my own life when yours already hangs in the balance. You are a strong girl, if a foolish one.  _

Maple let the ghost drag her through the rows of empty graves. She wasn’t sure what to make of this woman. Looking closer, she didn’t appear as old as she sounded. She looked much younger than Princess Zelda, even. There were small clues; simple earrings, simpler still clothes. Embedded in her etherial form was a ring she wore on her right hand. It could have been an engagement ring, Maple thought. On the wrong hand? 

_ Your oath burns you less now, yes? _ The young woman pulled Maple into another hall. Ahead were stone doors. Maple hadn’t thought about her ankle since she had picked up the dagger. The ghost was right. 

_ It is because the young Bearer has left. _

“What?”

_ The Shade believes the boy has abandoned you. _

Maple’s heart sank. “Gan… Gan would never…”

_ Your heart doubts. _

“He’s… he’s not been feeling well.” Maple touched her neck again. She didn’t want to. The ghost put her hand on Maple’s chin. The cold hand felt so soothing against the phantom heat on Maple’s skin. “But he didn’t abandon me! I know that.”

_ As do I. The Shade is scorned and haunted by his own lifetime. He is blinded to the hope his own future holds. He has forgotton himself.  _ The ghost smiled; coy and warm.  _ But my son will sort himself out, I know it. _

Maple’s eyes opened wide. Questions boiled over in her thoughts, but the ghost put her finger over the girl’s lips. There was no time for catching up. 

_ But he need not do it alone. We must hurry, as he is swift afoot and we must be ready when he comes. _

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Stop freaking out in his  _ ear _ , Ko.” Ato hissed. He pulled the half-dressed soldier back by his collar. Tamo plucked Ato’s hands from Ko. The seargent nodded to Link, who’s steps were getting staggered. 

“Actually,” Link flipped himself around to walk backward and face the squad. “If you guys could keep talking that would be great. It’s helping keep me grounded.”

“See, I told you.” Ko jogged back up to Link’s side. “But why a spear? Aren’t you more of a sword guy?”

“Princess said so.” Link shrugged. 

“I thought you didn’t trust her.” Lo flanked him on the other side. “Since you’re ex’s and all.”

“We-” Link actually couldn’t object to that. The twins saw him hold his tongue and tucked that away for later. “I just know she tends to say what she wants people to hear, instead of what she knows. That’s all. That’s what happens when you want things to go according to plan.”

“So wait, does she  _ plan _ the future, or does she  _ see _ the future?” 

“Yes.” Link wore a weary grin. “Exactly.”

“We’re getting sick of your not-answers, man.” Lo gripped his mace tighter. He was better at weilding it, now. There were plenty of fenceposts along the road to Castletown with neat little spikemarks. “Which is it?”

“Alright, it’s like, say you hear a rumour that someone is cheating at cards.”

“Again.”

“Right, again. So you’re like, okay, I know how this goes. I can  _ accomodate _ that. So you play differently to make up for the fact that the other guy,”

“That you-”

“Yes, that the other guy is cheating.”

“Again.”

“Right. So you know the future, because you know what to expect, but you also did some planning of your own to make it play out in your favour. That’s what she does. She knows what she’s seeing because, even though she can’t remember it herself, she’s seen this all before.”

“Nothing new under the sun.” Ko nodded.

 “ _ Exactly _ .” 

“So she can plan for it, using what she’s learned beforehand.” Lo paused. “But wait, that works for broad strokes, but some things are just so specific and like… dependant on other things that happened.”

“All of time is broad strokes.” Link glanced up at the Horse as they walked underneath the statue. “Only mortals are concerned with the details.” 

They paused. They all looked at the horse, but their thoughts were on the ground below. The squad had a general understanding of the crypt below. They had all known about it- told campfire stories about the heros crawling out of the ground for unfinished business. With the tomb open, the torches on the stairs smoulding, they wondered how many myths were obscured truths. 

Tim put out his hands to Tamo and Ato. They nodded. They each took off a glove and placed them in Tim’s large hands. Tim tapped Link’s shoulder and offered back the gloves. Tim held the spear as Link put his gloves back on. The squad watched as they readjusted to his hands. He nodded gratitude to Tim. Tim squeezed his shoulder. It was the strongest, most genuine form of concern and confidence anyone could give. 

“Alright.” Link rolled his shoulders. He tested the weight of the shield on his arm. “Stand guard. If anything undead comes out, just steer clear of it and alert the guards. Don’t fight it. If all goes well, only Maple will come out. Once she does, close up the tomb.” 

“What? With you in it?” 

“Yes.”

“Right.” Tamo stepped forward. He turned his head to address the rest of the squad. “Don’t open it until the sun hits the graveyard. Then we can let Link out. If things go sideways, Ato, I want you on alert duty for the castle guard. Lo, you’ll be alerting the barracks. Tim and Ko I’ll need you to stay with me.”

With that sorted, Link took a deep breath. He ajusted his grip on the spear. He tapped the head of it on the top of the archway for good luck.  _ It’s just a temple, _ he told himself.  _ A temple with a bunch of skilled stalfos, poes and not a single rupee. _ Despite this, he pushed off his toes and scuttled down the long coil of stairs. He jumped down most of the steps. The lights only lit long after he passed them. That was fine. 

The lights caught up to him at the end of the stairs. He didn’t need them. The small room was lit by two clashing lights. The first was the soft fairylight of Zeel, and the other the radiant, humming light of the Golden Wolf. Link coult taste the metal in the air, the static of the magic across the links of his chainmail. Zeel was shaking. The wolf was snarling. 

Link lunged forward against the arcane pressure, spear down and forward. The spearhead pierced the matted fur of the golden wolf between the shoulder and the ribcage. The wolf reared back. Link pinned the beast by the spear against the wall. The beast snarled and turned its empty socket to the Living Bearer. Snarling and growling was no deterrant. It was the light and the blindness that make Link’s elbow buckle. 

Link looked away from the wolf and leaned into his spear. He extended his shield arm out to Zeel. Now that he was standing just outside the mirror pool, he could see the fairy clearly. Zeel was in  _ agony _ . He had done his darndest to hold up the warding spell, but weilding the very antithesis of the Hero to power the spell was tearing him apart. Link didn’t think his action through, not really, but he knew it would be effective. 

Link extended a pinky to the Fairy. Zeel saw it and knew what the hero meant. He hesitated. Link pushed against the spear to keep the wolf from moving while Zeel got his thoughts in order. 

“Listen,” Link hissed. It was more because holding a wolf in place was terribly uncomfortable. “I think you already know what I plan to do. And for now, you are my best chance and keeping all of these bitter bastards down here. But not as you are now. Not on Power. Take  _ some.  _ One segment is more than enough. Deal?”

Zeel did not know what Link planned to do, but he did have several ideas. Maybe one of them was right. “You know the risk of a multi-bonded fairy.”

“Yeah, I do.” Irritation. Impatience. “And you know what, I may not  _ like _ great faries, but they’re damned useful to me. Besides, if that’s what you become, I don’t think you’ll be all that bad.” 

Zeel stifled a laugh. There was nothing else to argue. He flew to the edge of the mirror pool to fly close to Link’s finger. The sensation was somewhere between being scattered at the cellular level and frostbite. Link's lips pulled back into a grimace and a snarl equal to that of the wolf's as he ripped the rest of his hand away from the fairy. Zeel felt his eyes roll back. 

Courage felt completely different from Power. It wasn't a smouldering, a roaring deep within. Courage fizzled at the surface of his awareness like boiling fat under the skin. Zeel's wings twitched at Courage's need to move, to leap to scream over mountains. The spell,  _ oh the spell _ , poured over Zeel like the shallow water of the mirror pool and recognized the Courage within. Bonded to the bearer, bonded to the owner of the tomb, Zeel no longer had to fight for its obedience. The spell fell into line and  _ obeyed _ . 

The golden wolf could not howl. Instead the brilliant gold paled, then the pale light flickered into a smaller figure. As the form receded, the Golden Wolf reverted back to the form of a young man that he had once been in life. His right eye was gouged out, his left wrist broken multiple times, and the faint painting to match a long lost mask accented his sharp features. The spear was still lodged under his collar bone.

"Hey, buddy." Link whispered. "How ya feelin'?" 

" _ Traitor. Defiler. _ " The once-wolf growled. " _ Failure! You have abandoned your purpose! _ "

"Yeah?" Link ground the spear in. "Tall talk for the guy who allowed the Scary Badman into the Temple in the first place. That  _ was _ you, wasn't it, Time?" 

"You have no comprehension of what I did for Hyrule! You  _ abandoned _ -" 

"Oh,  _ enough. _ " Link pulled out the spear. That was much worse. All of eighteen, the Hero Time slumped onto the floor. "What has your anger got you? Hm? Unrest. Violence for every life that has come after you. You don't have to like what you see, but before you call me out? Before you renounce me, remember that after your actions, and the actions of every man woman and child in this tomb, of everyone of us that sleeps across Hyrule, I am who you become."

"Then what a dark age for our people, wherein their Hero has fallen prey to Guilt and abandons his duty."

"What a dark age for our people, when a Hero cannot hold himself accountable." Link dropped to a knee to speak with the slumped teen. "Where's Maple? Where's the girl?"

"Hiding, deep within." Time replied. A snarl curled through his phantom lips. "We are preparing a place for her. You don't have the clarity to see what she will become. You don't have the balls to do what needs be done."

"Yeah? You're going to honour her with one of our graves?"

"It is better than letting her become a nightmare of Hyrule. I know the pain of trying to do all things right. It doesn't work that way. No matter how much you change, how much love you put in, you can either save the town or its people. Never both."

“Stick to teaching weapons,” Link tapped the speared shoulder. Rising to his feet he turned to Zeel. The small fairy was glowing like a Guardian awoken. If his inflections were anything like Navi’s, the small creature was definitely faring better. His wingbeats were steady, his hovering had found a happy bounce, and his colour was gently saturated. “Can you hold them until I get back?”

Zeel nodded. “I’ve got this, for now. Find Maple.”

Time pushed against the wall to stand up, but the spell hung over him. The deceased bearer stared into the mirror pool with indignation. As the unrightful heir of the Triforce dashed off into the tombs, he focued on the fairy of red. He could not put his loathing, his disgust and his sense of betrayal into words. The Demon King had defiled even his resting place. 

 

Poes and Stalfos rose up out of the shelves. He coult taste the dust on his tongue and the stench of death nestled into his nose. He couldn’t get his mind past the irony. He thought of calling out to them, or rather calling them out, but the words stuck against the back of his throat like a sickness. Most of them were silent, reserved and unable in death as many of himself had been in life. The few, the capable, howled for the many. 

_ Failure, Traitor _

Link did not want these to bother him. Perhaps if it had been said by the council, these words would mean nothing. Perhaps if he was not already fighting back the influence of Courage, they might have bounced off his armour. Perhaps, if he had not felt these words in his soul from the time he was a young child, they would not have the roots around his heart that they do now. It was hard to hear criticism from Syrup groing up, but that was her nature. It was hard to hear it from the families who grieved across Hyrule, but they were in mourning. It was agony to hear it from the spirit who guarded the Temple of Time, every time he wandered in for catharsis in times of trouble. Yet, it was harder still to hear it from himself, for no one believed it more deeply than he. For everyone else the moment would pass- Syrup would calm down, the begrieved would move on, and the Temple would be distracted. Yet for Link, who had all of his former bearers, his former lives glaring down at him- his reflection looking back in every pool of water, the accusations would only ebb to rise. 

So all the dead, gathered here in his own grave, all the past heroes that they had been able to recover, faced no rebuttal. They chanted on.  _ Failure, Traitor. Failure, Traitor. We have given your place away to your mother; at least she died with her dignity. _

Unable to drown them out, Link raised his spear. He doubt it would be much use. As the monsters they had become tumbled from their places into his path, it was quickly evident. They all knew how to weild a spear,  _ many of them better than he _ , and soon it was wrenched from his hands. He lifted his shield and shoved through them. They clawed at the armour that they themselves used to wear. They shoved their skeletal feet against his calves, hoping to take back their own boots. Those who had hands plucked at his left hand. One managed to pinch the skin where the mark of the Goddess rested- as if the Piece of Courage could be peeled out like a scab. Link clutched his hand to his chest and shoved through into the hall. 

There, he saw the water on the archway. The clay was now dry and cracking from a recent flash-baking. Link could see the soot on the floor as the old lives fell away. He looked up- a small piece of ice that did not melt, much like the kind of the Zora’s City, laid embedded into the capstone. No wonder Zeel was so tired when Link had found him- the mirror pool’s influence was embedded in every arch of the tomb. As he stepped through to the hallway, the dead stood in hissing and chanting. He took his moment in the hallway to catch his breath. 

He could feel the memories fester on the backs of his eyelids. When he closed them, he watched villages burn and temples fall to Demise’s corruption. He saw peoples starve and the battlefields that reeked with rotting meat. The light warmed up his irises. He swallowed it back. Each of the old heroes buried called out to him with the memories of the horror they faced. Hyrule conquered, families buried, Hyrule  _ outright flooded _ \- and then the smallest, most rebellious emotion sprouted out from him. Link was  _ insulted _ . 

He dove into it. Emotions, he had learned, were like weapons. They were dangerous, sure, but weilded well, they were the force that made every other law of the universe take a knee. It was the mortal response- just like fight or flight, and their hidden gift by the Goddesses. It had taken him many, many meetings with a Professor, and many more lifetimes, to get that concept through his stubborn skull. 

He walked through the next arch. The dead tumbled out of their places. Their chanting echoed as it did in the first room- voices raining down from an acoustic ceiling. This time Link had his answer. 

“Do you think I forgot?” There was no smile, no coy pull of his lips. “Do you think that I haven’t fought the same battle? Yeah? Did  _ you not remember _ I have done this before? We were  _ there _ . We already fought him. You know what happened?  _ Jack. Fucking. Shit. _ Since we were first called, we chanted- what?”

_ Peace, by any means necessary. _

“Exactly. Well no more excuses. No more hesitations. Regicide hasn’t worked for  _ any _ of us. So  _ excuse fucking me _ , but I’m done.  _ We’re _ done.” Link dropped his spear. He tossed the shield aside. He threw up his hands in invitation. The dead stood in place. They stared at him with open eyes and wounded souls. They were in shock. For all of his lifetimes, his enemy had  _ never surrendered _ . They didn’t know what to do. 

Link didn’t wait for the shock to wear off. He booked it _. _


	35. Safe in Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much gentler chapter.

Gannon bolted into the study with his chest heaving and a pair of castle guards right behind. Loamol finally let go of the mantle above the fireplace and swept her son into her arms. She buried her face in his hair. He was here. He was here, and unharmed, and she was not about to put him down. Wherever Zelda was going to take them, Loamol was going to carry her son close to her chest and he was just going to have to accept that. 

“Thank you, we will no longer need escort.” Zelda said to the guards. They immediately objected, considering the threat. She blinked at them. “I wholelly appreciate your concern, however on this my orders  _ must _ be followed. The more eyes see, the more he can find. If he does give us trouble, I am more than capable of disposing of him.”

The guards knew that much was true. They bowed and tucked out of the room without further argument. When Zelda was assured they were alone in the study, she spun on her heels. She reached under her father’s armchair and pulled a lever. Loamol thought that was for the chair to  _ recline _ , but instead a bookshelf behind a desk slid back into a recess on the wall. Zelda put her hand behind Loamol’s shoulder, skirted her around the desk, and tucked away into a corridor that hid within the wall. It was a tight fit, Loamol having to bend a bit to keep her hair out of the framework, but she was no less impressed. 

“Would you like to know a secret?” Zelda whispered. The bookshelf slid back into place. Gannon looked up at her over his mother’s shoulder. “You put this corridor here.” 

The boy blinked. “What?”

“You’ve conquered this very castle a few times, and each time you did some renovations. Most people do not use them, but it is a shame. You had some wonderful ideas.”

The young king heard the conversation drift on between Zelda and his mother, but he was silenced. He had never heard any of his old lives  _ complimented _ . He had added things to the castle? They were in a corridor, sneaking along like children on an adventure, in something  _ he _ had built. In this dark hour, something he had done long ago was now saving him in the present. It was a lot to think about for someone with a noggin as small as his yet. By the time he came around, his mother was setting him down on some wooden furniture. 

“Gannon, take this chalk and write with me.” Zelda reached through his mental fog and handed him a piece of pink chalk. Offering her hand, Gan took it and hopped off the bench. “Watch your step, it’s crowded in here.”

Crowded was an understatement. It was a  _ mess _ . It was the kind of mess that proper storage could fix, if there could be proper storage for hammers and chests and a cardboard box of rings, wands and more bows than Gannon could count. Only the instruments outnumbered the swords. He looked up. There were acrobatic rings dotted across the faded pink ceiling at different heights. Along the walls were vines that didn’t look right, and worst was the one wall absolutely crammed tight with  _ masks _ . Gan took Zelda’s hand with both of his and pushed himself close to her dress. He glanced at the piece of furniture he had been sitting on. It was a coffin, sanded down and polished. He buried his face in her dress. Now that he was aware of it, he could taste the acidic air of magic, stale and festering, that sat like dust in the room. 

“It’s going to be alright.” Zelda soothed him. She watched Loamol hesitantly sit on the coffin herself to make more space in the narrow walkway. “We are going to put a spell over the door, and we’re going to leave the key in the lock, on  _ this _ side. And you are going to do it with me because it’s a great spell and you should know it.”

Gan mumbled an  _ Okay _ , and shuffled through the narrow space between hilts and handles and shields. He watched as Zelda drew the runes over the top hinge of the door. She wrote them in a tight circle, and then guided the young bearer to the lower hinge. 

“Can you see what I wrote?”

He nodded.

“Do you know what it means?”

He nodded.

“Can you read it to me?”

Gannon squinted at the runes, and though he knew they had meaning, and he  _ felt _ what they meant together, he couldn’t read them. Zelda counted to twenty in her head before she pointed out the first symbols with her finger. Slowly she worked her way around, muttering in a language that Loamol could barely hear, but feel in her bones. No one had taught the young King to write in runes just yet, but as Zelda named them his hands transcribed them. As easily as one coaxes a loving pet into their lap, Zelda drew up old knowledge out of him. The circle spell completed and closed around the second hinge of the door. 

Gannon put the chalk back in Zelda’s hand. He put his hands in his pockets. “This spell is simple and only works against the metal, to keep it from turning.”

Zelda nodded. “Correct.”

“But…” He scratched the back of his head and some of his braids deep underneath started to fray. “Can’t he just… dispell it?”

Zelda smirked to Gannon’s observation. She was now placing the key and writing the same spell around the door handle. “He cannot. Only you and your mother will be able to do so.”

“Because we’re on the inside?”

“No, because your father cannot cast spells.” Zelda’s voice dropped into a mischevous tenor. She did not complete the spell on the doorknob. Instead, she handed the chalk back to Gan.

The boy stared at the runes. “But… Yes he  _ can _ . I saw him use Din’s Fire on the way back from the Zora Market.” 

Zelda sighed, struggling between coy grin and unpleasant memory. “Ghirahim was right about one thing- the Hero of Courage tends to  _ cheat _ to get his job done. He cheats death by his very nature, out of his control. His strength is in his arsenal, often disguising one talent for another. Where he falls short,” Zelda winked and they both giggled, “he finds another solution. Tell me, can you  _ see _ spells when you call upon your power?”

Gan beat his hands in his pockets against his sides. He hadn’t thought about it. He took a deep breath. He could check. Instead, Zelda put a hand to his chest and bent to speak with him at eye level. The boy looked back in confusion. 

“Oh no- don’t do it here. You’ll make yourself dizzy.” Zelda sounded like she was speaking from experience. “There are more enchanted items in this room than my entire wing combined. However, when all this is over, and you are rested, take a look at the boots your father is  _ never _ without.”

Mirth bled from her features as she stood to her full height. She nudged Gannon on to complete the spell around the doorknob. She caught Loamol’s eyes darting around the room. She crossed to take the Gerudo’s hands in her own. 

“Are we truly safe in here?” the Mother kneaded her worries into the Princess’ soft hands. “Amongst all his… things? In his own room?”

“Safer here than anywhere else.” Zelda assured her. “The Master Sword is in possession of the Council. It is quite literally out of his reach, and anything he would use to get it is here with you. Many of these tools are not so much his own, but are familiar to him. Though, while many of the masks are… more comedic than effective, they are best left alone.”

“It’s done,” Gan stepped back from the door. Zelda let go of Loamol’s hands to cross the room (all of a stride and a half with all the clutter) to take the chalk. “Are you going to stay with us?”

“No.” Zelda put a hand on his shoulder. “I need to keep watch for any of the souls who wander. While I have complete faith in him for holding the tomb, he cannot also account for the dead who were never buried there. Thankfully they are naturally drawn to my side for service, so you should not be troubled tonight.”

Gan rubbed his arm. “Dad said… If Dad finds me, I…”

Zelda wrapped the boy in her embrace. She pressed his soft face into her shoulder. She held him tight. “It won’t come to that, Gannon. I chose this room for a reason.” She pulled herself away to look into his eyes. They were downcast. “Should a single soul makes it this far, he will have to confront the fact that he is the same hero that grew up in this room, the same hero that looked fate in the eye and pleaded for an alternative. He will have to relive the memory that he is the same hero who chose to love you. There will be no bloodshed tonight.”

Zelda kissed the top of his forehead, just as Link had. She turned to Loamol, hugged her tight and whispered assurances for the mother. They stayed there, Loamol sitting on the coffin and Zelda to her side, holding one another for strength. When Loamol let go, Zelda teleported out of the room. It caught both the Gerudo by surprise. 

They sat in the crowded arsenal. Gannon crawled up into his mother’s lap to wait for the morning. He watched her take in the room without distraction. Stress, confusion and surprise escaped in a much needed laughter. 

“I spy,” she whispered into his ear, “with my little eye, something  _ pink _ .”

Gannon broke into a fit of giggles. “The ceiling! My turn, my turn. Um...”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Maple heard the houding cry of the undead scraping against the walls. She heard the thud of flesh and bone against the floor. The faint  _ tink _ of metal bouncing off of a surface accented the fray to little effect. The spear that caused it was equally unimpactful against hardened skulls. 

Link, the one she knew, scrambled backwards into the hall. He beat back grobing limbs with his shield. He ground bones to dust under his boots. The archway and Zeel’s spell pulled against the undead that threatened to spill out of the room. The fairy did not let them. Courage to refuse them and the power to reinforce it kept the undead restrained. Link leaned agianst a wall and caught his breath. 

“Uncle Link!” Maple stumbled over some rubble. He looked up with surprise. Before he could straighten up she threw her arms around him. She nearly cut him with the dagger in her hands. “Thank the three; you made it.” 

“Of course.” He breathed. He was more surprised by her affection than her unblemished condition. “I will always come back for you, Maple. Come on, let’s find a way to get you out of here.” 

“Find? Can’t you just… fight them off?”

“Most of them, sure. If it was single combat it would be a simple gauntlet and that could be fine, except that they’re all me and apparently in death I’ve learned a measure of teamwork.” 

She rolled her eyes in jest. “You would only work with yourself.” 

He had to chuckle. He tapped the back of her shoulders with his shieldhand. She didn’t let go of him. He understood. Instead of pressing her off, he propped the spear on the wall and wrapped his other arm around her. He rest his face on the crown of her hair and let her breathe out her terror. After a moment he tapped her back, took back up the spear, and gave her space to uncoil. 

“Oh right! We have something for you.” Maple wiped her face to deny she had started to cry. She looked over her shoulder. He squinted.  _ We? _ He followed her eyes to the hazy ghost, blue with peace of spirit, who stood aside. “She helped keep me away from… the other yous and we found something that can help.”

Link felt his blood run cold. He had made peace with this, he thought. Though his memory did not serve him, he knew that face. She held herself a bit ashamed. He was equal parts angry, wounded and numb. Preparing mentally to face his past incarnations was one beast, but to face his  _ mother _ was another. She didn’t coax him to greet her. She didn’t approach him- instead she held out an instrument made of wood and leaves for Maple to take. Maple half-skipped, half-shuffled to his mother and back. 

The young witch presented him with the small instrument. He knew it immediately as Mako’s old cello. He gingerly took up the instrument and tucked the curve under his chin. Maple waved the bow in her hand like a conductor. To humour her, he plucked at the strings to her swoops. He tuned the old sinews to get the right notes. His  _ soul _ told him when it was in the right pitch. Link decided to check it against the piano in the rec hall when this was done, anyway. Maple turned over the bow when he was done. 

He kept his eyes fixed on the writhing undead over Maple’s shoulder. He played a short melody, seventeen notes. He watched as the undead froze under its power and were bound in a white binding like thick spidersilk. He started counting under his breath. Maple watched him. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder. The spell shook around the undead as it weakened and they burst from their holdings. 

Link pulled Maple’s broom from its strap on her back. He tapped it against the floor and she held out her hand to level it. He knelt down to look her in the eye. “Stay out of reach. Once the spell is cast,  _ fly _ . Do not run, do not hide.  _ Fly _ . Not even as a pack can we outpace your arrogant broomstick. Once you get out of the tomb, find Impa. She will no doubt already be looking for you.”

“We’ll find her together.” Maple smiled, but it was weak. 

Link shook his head. “No. I’m staying down here. I’ll be alright. Do as Impa tells you, and  _ do not look back _ .”

Maple held her breath for a second. “I hadn’t thought about looking back but now it’ll be hard.” 

Link almost laughed. He put the bow to the strings of the not-viola. Maple leaned on her broom and waited for the song. The notes ensnared the undead. Maple took off. She flew high and hard. As she entered each room she felt the melody follow her below. She could almost feel time stop around her as she burst through the tomb. She pivoted down the last hallway and nearly collided with Zeel. She steered out of the mirror pool, and toward the stairs. She heard Link’s voice shouting commands and in her peripheral vision she saw Zeel’s red light catch up to her. They escaped the tomb from under the Horse statue and spilled onto the ground. 

“Close it!” Zeel bellowed. The melody of the Sun Song was too far to hear from the tomb below. “Close it now!”

Tamo, Tim, Ato, Ko and Lo heaved against the stone and it easily gave under their combined weights. The tomb slammed shut with Link inside. Maple laid down in the dirt while her heart got it together. Tim extended a hand to her, and in time, she took it. He stood her up and handed her the broom. 

“Impa is waiting for you at the edge of the graveyard. Zeel, stay with her. Gannon is safe so long as you don’t seek him out.” Tamo leaned himself against the tomb, as if his stature would be a needed paperweight against the undead. “Her Highness’ orders.”

The two escapees nodded and quickly took off to their refuge. They, much like anyone else, would not sleep for hours to come. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Loamol gently set her son on his feet. He yawned off a thin veil of sleep and teetered into balance. The first beams of sunrise shone through the stained glass of the third floor. Without picture, the soft yellows and blues cast hints of themselves and revealing greens on the inner wall. On one window was taped a handmirror with an eye over its glass. As the sunlight filtered through it, a cone illuminated the hidden, handwritten words on the wall.

 

_ Get up or you will be late to breakfast. _

 

Loamol recognized it as Link’s own handwriting crammed between the masks- not quite as neat and trained as his hand wrote now in his adulthood. She rubbed Gannon’s arm to help him wake up. She gestured to the wall. She read it aloud to him and they both shared another giggle at Link’s expense. 

Gan hugged his mother’s arm close to his chest. Together they walked to the far side of the room, wiped the spells from the knob and hinges, turned the key, and left Link’s room. Loamol winked and pocketed the key for herself. Gan put a finger over his lips. Loamol knew Zelda would ask for it later, anyhow. 

Gan squeezed her hand, kissed it and she kissed his forehead back. He let go and scuttled down the hall. Loamol folded her hands together and decided to return to her room to sleep. She knew where her son was going. 

He jogged through the castle, across the yard, and wove as best as he could remember through the barracks. He had it just about right; close enough that Ko was able to find him. The soldier escorted the young king with a hand on his back and sleep in his eyes. The cots were empty with the soldiers all off to breakfast and assignments, except for one. 

Gan ran the length of the room and found Link fast asleep, still wearing everything from the night before, with the exception of the chain shirt and the boots. He was laid over the sheets with a blanket tossed over him. The boy looked back up at Ko. 

“Is he gonna be okay?”

Ko nodded. “Oh yeah. If he was hurt we would have killed ‘im. Nah, he just needs to sleep it off.”

Gan blinked at Ko’s casual commentary. Deciding to say nothing on the matter, he hopped up on the cot to sit on its edge. “Can… Can I stay here a while?”

Ko scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, alright. No one will be around for a bit. Just make sure you make it to your classes and such. Normalcy is important after a shakeup, alright?”

Gan nodded. Ko risked reaching over and ruffled the the fraying and loosening hair on the top of his head. Ko urged him to rest well, and took his leave to rejoin the rest of the squadron. 

Gan looked at Link’s slowly rising and falling blanket, steady and fast asleep. He had succeeded, and the boy was glad they had left his dad to sleep. From the look of it, they had even tucked him in a bit. He found his eyes trailing to Link’s boots. With no one around, he took the privilege of seeing Link’s boots through the eyes of power. 

The boots, normally dusty and broken brown leather, now had a sheer red hue to them. They were etched deeply with engravings and adornments and  _ all  _ of the enchantments were old enough to start fraying. These boots were far older than the Link who was fast asleep. There were faint white feathers, splitting and nearly threadbare on the heels. There were the runes describing how the leather was to wrap in order to fit the wearer, and transparent steel over the toes of the boot for protection and weight. Gan risked picking one up, half afraid it would fall apart, and looked on the underside of the left boot. Inlaid into the arch of the boot were three gems, green blue and red, and Gan could see the spells swirling within. Gently, and partially concerned for what the other spells were, he quietly set the boot back down. He glanced around the cot to see if anything else glowed, but found nothing but Link's gloves- which already knew to be enchanted for fit and strength.

He laid down over the blanket and stared at the underside of the top bunk. Despite sleeping through most of the morning, sleep weighed heavy on him. The greatest balance against this weight was relief- relief that Dad and Zelda had been able to keep all the loathing and anger of the past lives at bay. Gan realized that he should probably get something to eat and find Maple.

In his sleep, Link registered that he was not alone in the cot. He rolled over, felt Gan’s hair tickle his nose and chuckled. He wrapped an arm behind his son and pulled the boy to his side. Gan felt Link’s sleep ease immediately. The boy buried his face into his father’s side and gave into sleep. 

It was the most peaceful victory Ganondorf had ever known.  


	36. Life of a Postman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we're gonna quick see how Ratal is doing, because nothing like a break from a major event like visiting a side character for world building.

Many of the great love songs use Hyrule Field as the basis of all romance. They say it is the homeplace of all innocence, nature and bliss itself. This is largely due to the rich waves of grass, vibrant wildflowers, trees with wide reaching boughs and the songbirds that adorn them. It is open and free. In the evening, the stars paint the nebulas in the heavens, and come down as fireflies to dance with the mortals. Sunrise and sunset cast their reflection in every pool. Rainbows are common. 

Ratal did not feel the songwriter’s esctasy. There were rainbows often because it rained often, leaving deep puddles of mud and sliding sod atop every hill. There were plenty of wildflowers because there were plenty of bees to polinate them and birds to poop their seeds. Perhaps Ratal only felt sour because his legs were sore, he had no sleep, and every tree bough looked like a comfortable place to nap. That wasn’t to say he didn’t feel magic in things- oh no, he had discovered a powerful magic that night.

The Official Postmaster’s Uniform was a work of arcane genius. While he resented how he  _ looked _ in the thing, he was the most comfortable he had ever been in his life. Despite being in dew and mud, in  _ sandals _ , his feet were dry. They were clean. The leather that wrapped around his shin deflected splashes and strain. He hadn’t had a single cramp. The shorts were far too short for his liking, but he was warm. Autumn was well under way and the leaves of the field slicked the mud, but he felt no chill. His vest was the same- warm and free in movement. It felt thin, but he was sure that he had bumped into a wide variety of thorns and briars who hadn’t even grazed him. He knew already that the red cap had the bunny symbol for a reason- the logo for speed and endurance. He hadn’t needed it yet, but he knew any monster lurking nearby would happily put him to the test. The mailbag he carried was a bottomless pit that felt no weight, leaving his shoulders easy and free. Perhaps the only thing that  _ wasn’t _ enchanted was the pennent itself. Somewhere in his mailbag was the brass head that he had dented in the Guardian on the way to Syrup’s. Perhaps at the Kakariko office he could get it repaired or replaced. It was no wonder that Postmen, while mocked by many for their attire, never complained. 

He kept a steady jog toward the village tucked away in the hills. He had only been to the place once, a part of the Princess’s escort to visit her Sheikah mentors. He knew it to be a place that was impossible to find until it was upon you. The people of the town had used the natural geography of the place in combination with their arts to keep their home protected. Ratal respected that. It was easier to deal with now that he had an advantage as a Postman. He could  _ feel _ where this parcel was supposed to go. He didn’t need his eyes, except to watch for roots and animal leavings. The Sheikah could trick the eyes and the tactics, but not the soul of a postman. Besides, they needed their mail like everyone else.

The Mailbag led Ratal under the wooden archway decorated in gold tassles. He saluted to the guards at the entrance, and they waved back at him. Right, he wasn’t a guard. They don’t salute the mail. Awkwardly he jogged past them and continued the Call of the Post. 

The call brought him around the path, through decorated trees and up a hill. At its peak sat a secluded home. It was likely secluded because of all the junk in the yard and noise from within. Ratal could smell fire. He knew exactly what sort of place this was. Out of the door burst a young woman, coughing and wheezing. She was either unaware or unbothered by the small flames on her clothes. Ratal jogged up and quickly started patting the fires down. Once she was put out and set to rights, he backed up and bowed deeply. 

“Forgive me for approaching your person.” Ratal announced. He looked at her and felt the pull. Ah, that made things easier. “I have come with a parcel for you.”

She stared at him blankly. Perhaps she needed more sleep. He pulled a clipboard out of his mailbag and a quill. He dipped it into his ink holster. She took the quill and skimmed the page. Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Oh, right! Oh I had forgotton all- oh dear, thank you. Of course.”

She signed on the bottom of the form and traded the clipboad for her parcel. She slid her fingers around the outside of the small box to break the tape and stickers that kept it closed. It contained a narrow box, like one for a necklace. She tucked the wrappings and the lid under her arm. Inside was not a necklace, but a thick leather collar tucked under the ribbons. There was no letter, no context. She nodded anyway. 

“There wasn’t anything else sent along?”

Ratal nervously shook his head. He looked at the clipboard and read through the itinerary. “This was all I was given. Yes, one parcel, to you. Requested return shipping, prepaid, post-haste.”

“Oh!” She peeled the collar out of the box and under the cotton of the jewelry box sat a broken, blue bracelet. “Nevermind. It had fallen in the box. It’s all accounted for. This is in better condition than I had expected.”

“That’s good.” Ratal had nothing else to say to that.

“Oh, I hope so,” she frowned, “because I have to dismantle it. Perhaps if it was in a rougher state it might give itself more to being remade… Oh I’ll make it work. I always do.”

She gave a laugh as if she didn’t believe it. She untucked the lid from under her arm and set it over the box. She folded the paper and set it on top. She encouraged herself with a deep breath and a false smile. She beamed at Ratal but he only saw panic. 

“When you are ready for return shipping,” he stuck to the script; it had a history of keeping him out of the mess and mire of social politics, “please contact the head office. I will be along to pick it up and return it to sender. If you have any questions or expect a delay, please reach out to your local office or postman.”

She stared at him. “Uh, right. Thanks. I’m going inside now.”

He bowed. She mimicked the bow without breaking eye contact. Clutching the parcel to her chest she scuttled inside. Ratal took advantage of the hill to take in the village. It was larger than the word ‘village’ implied. That made sense- it was the oldest settlement of Hyrule. It made it remarkably difficult to spot the local Post Office. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Gannon had not been in the throneroom of Hyrule since Link had first brought him to answer the summons. Hastily brushed up and nudged along by Impa, the nerves in his stomach felt like faries eating away at his insides. Maple kept her hands knitted tightly together over her own stomach and from that alone Gan knew she felt just as awful as he did. 

They dragged their feet over the long carpet. Just as before, the King sat in his throne, and beside him the Queen, and to the Queen’s side, stood Zelda with her hands folded neatly. Unlike before, there was no council seated around them. The stained glass wimdows around the throne room detailed the legend of Hyrule’s History- the Princess and the Knight against the darkness. It made Gannon feel unloved, and small, so he tried not to look at them. Around the walls the guards stood frigidly still, like the empty suits of armour in the halls. In the corner of his eye, his own hand reached out for Maple. She quickly answered it by the grasping of her own hand to him. Together they approached the throne, kneeled quickly as they had always done for the Zora Queen, and then stood- their eyes still to the floor. 

They heard guards move. They moved as a unit, half of their numbers saluting the Royal Family and turning out of the room. When the two children looked up, it was only the Royal Family, Impa, and a handful of guards. The curtains had been drawn closed over the stained glass and the room was much darker- leaving the sconces and the chandelier far above to grant sight. The children still could not look at the family. 

King Zobolph of Hyrule stood. The children heard him sigh with a heavy heart. They were in trouble. They were in  _ so much trouble _ . They had expected Link to be angry- furious. They had expected Impa to be cold and ruthless in discipline. They had expected Loamol to perhaps call down the fire of Din on some weeds in her distress. None of this had happened. All three, who they expected rather dramatic reactions, had only responded with comfort and assurance. They had known what the children did not. It was not against the Hero, nor their guardians, that they had committed offense. They were answering to the King, and they did not know why. 

“Gannondorf, Maple.” His voice was deeper than any of the men they had spoken to. It was a reservoir of experience and command. Gan wondered if his voice had ever sounded as profound as this. “Your actions have not only endangered yourselves, which would be a grave matter on its own, but also everyone who lives and works on Castle Grounds. Had this gone awry, many people could have been hurt, or worse, have  _ died _ . I am grateful to everyone’s cooperation and strength, as well as the Goddesses above, that none of that took place.”

The pause was not long, but it skewered them. They hadn’t  _ meant _ for that. They didn’t want anyone hurt, or scared. Mischief, sure, a discovery? Absolutely, but never any  _ harm _ . In the brief moment where the King took a single breath to speak, the children imagined several outlandish punishments for themselves. 

“We need to understand why you did this,” the King announced. The air hung heavy. The children expected him to continue speaking, or make a declaration, but instead he left the space open for them to speak for themselves. The King raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“It was my fault.” Gannon sputtered. He looked to the carpet, following the pattern to the fringe, to the grooves in the stonework- anywhere but the throne. “It-It was my idea.”

“No it wasn’t.” Maple exhaled like a balloon released. “I- I did it. I made him do it to get back at him. Leave him out of this.”

There was a small spot of laughter from the Queen. She crossed one leg over the other. Her chin high, her head tilted to balance the smirk on her face. “I will give you children credit, you’re a better liar than Link is. Speak the truth, for you two need to hear it just as much as we do.”

Maple bit her tongue, but straightened her shoulders. “...I thought an adventure would make us friends again. I couldn’t handle how cold and awkward everything was  _ all the time _ and he kept acting so  _ sorry _ about everything and he’s not supposed to- it’s not… It’s not very  _ king-like _ to be apologizing for  _ breathing too loud _ .”

“I... “ Gan shoved his hands in his pockets so hard he nearly hurt Zeel. “You should  _ hate _ me. I- I couldn’t even help you when things went crazy. I hurt you, and then you couldn’t even get  _ away _ from me, and then when you  _ needed me _ I just… I  _ left you _ down there...”

“What?!” Maple threw up her hands, her shoulders swinging around to face him. He looked so small next to her. The slouching and hunching didn’t help his already tiny stature. “No, I  _ ditched you _ . I was gonna help you fight it but I didn’t have  _ anything _ and instead I ran off with another  _ ghost _ and- and I should have  _ known _ where we were but I ignored all the signs and you never had control over what happened at the… over the weekend and yet when I had complete control of my actions I did  _ everything _ to get us hurt- I didn’t even bring supplies a normal adventure would need-”

“Alright,” King Zobolph put up his hands. “Easy now. There is a difference between recognition of mistake, and emotional self-abuse. I believe you both understand the gravity of your actions, yes?”

The two kids nodded. They muttered apologies and sniffled back tears for both regret and fear. They still would not look up. They made attempts to explain their apology, ‘we never meant it’ and ‘we’ll never go to the cemetary’, topped up with ‘we won’t wander off ever’. The king breathed in the dramatic and polarizing display, and exhaled appreciation for their understanding for behaviours to change. It was moments like these he was greatful for his wife. 

“Those are all rather strong statements,” she said quietly. “The cemetary is grounds to grieve, and understand our history. Independance and exploration are important tools to grow and learn your own strengths. Less autonomy, or chances to make your own choices, will not help you grow into better leaders. No, I have a much better idea.”

Rational fear came back, but it got the kids to look up at the royal family instead of the floor. Maple looked to Zelda, but her face gave away nothing. She was quite accustomed to being a statue during her parent’s speeches. They looked to the King, who trusted his wife entirely but did not have any clues for them to follow. The queen allowed the throne room to be deathly silent while she ensured her words were in perfect order. 

“I agree with Maple that cooperation to an end will bring you closer together, and add that you will be more capable for it. What you need is a more constructive, less dangerous objective to pursue. To that end, for the next three weeks you will both be tasked to serve the groundskeepers with their duties. Do you know what the groundskeepers do?”

Maple paused. “Keep… the grounds?”

“Very astute.” Queen Osiel smiled. “What would you imagine keeping the grounds entail?”

The kids looked at one another and slowly put the puzzle together. They offered their suggestions in turn. “...Uh, gardening the flowers?” “I think I saw them feeding the chickens.” “They clean the paths outside, too.” “Do they clean out the cages the big animals are in?” “I don’t know what else they do.”

“You have the right of it,” she leaned back into her throne. “After your lunch, you will meet with Head Groundskeeper Roda. They will be giving you your daily objectives.”

Maple paused. This felt familiar. Just as if she had made a mistake in a potion, or gotten into trouble with a customer, Syrup would have given Maple extra chores to do around the cottage. While many of them had been good things for her to learn how to do, they felt more like busy work, keeping her from what she normally enjoyed. Maple didn’t sit well with it, but she also felt she was getting off easy.

“So… is it like, an extra class?” Gannondorf twiddled his fingers. “Just, outdoors?” 

“Similar, yes.” Zelda lifted her chin to speak. “While you will be learning much about gardening, daily maintinance of animals and such, they also make the most use of the navigation of the entire property. They, also dealing with more than your average farm animal, must internalize a great amount of safety protocol. This, for you two, will be a class in managing risk, preventing disaster, and the value of preperation.” 

“So…” Maple grinned. “Adventuring Basics?” 

The princess grinned. “You could say that, yes. You will be starting with Tutor Roda after lunch today, but there is one more thing that must be addressed.”

The kids shared a glance, missing Zelda's swift gestures and gait. She stepped down from her place beside the Queen with a thin, woven bracelet of blue. Gan's eyes fell. He recognized it immediately. He held out his left hand and Zelda secured it to his wrist. He wasn't sure if he felt included, or restrained. The truth was a bit of both. 

"Go on now, you have a class to attend."

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Training as a guard served him well as a Postman. How does one learn a new environment? Patrol it, in a systematic pattern. How does one learn about what happens there? Listen to those who think no one hears them. Speak lightly with those who see you. To those who acknowledge you from a distance, mind your manners. He carried no sword, no spear, but the trained Sheikah were no less wary of him. They knew that gait, that sweeping eye, that guarded smile. He was a postman in deed and in uniform; but he would never be a carrier in soul. 

“Reporting for Interum Duty.” Ratal announced this to the young man sitting behind the Post Office desk. The desk jockey didn’t wear the uniform- and Ratal realized it was because he wasn’t old enough. It made him no less dedicated to keeping order for the mail. 

“What does interum mean?” The boy asked. His hand hovered over a foot-tall tray tower of forms. He wasn’t sure which one to pull. 

“A state of being in-between.” Ratal kept his rigid posture. “I am here while I await a parcel for return-shipping. I was told to report to the main office and stay within radius. I was advised that a map would be available to me.”

Lights went on behind the boy’s eyes. He pushed away from the desk to the wall behind him. There were  _ more forms _ . The boy had to jump to reach the map with the distance markers on. He pulled from six different cubbies and shuffled them neatly into a packet. He punched a hole in the upper corner and strung through a keyring. With both hands he offered Ratal the packet. 

“Please sign at the bottom of each page, including the map, to show that you have read and understand the terms, conditions and expectations of the Regional Office.” 

Ratal flipped through them. The font was small. “May I be seated to read through this paperwork thoroughly?”

The boy nodded. He gestured to a bench by the side door. There was a coffee table and newspapers from yesturday. Ratal took a seat, a newspaper, and a deep breath. The front page of the paper caught his eye- there had been an incident in the Zora Domain. The apprentice mages studying within had attempted a new spell, and set fire to several things. It was a shocker, but no one was seriously hurt. Ratal wasn’t entirely surprised. The Festival of Fire Arrow was only a month away. Any apprentice would be eager to have a display ready for it. He turned his attention back to the forms. What made them easier to digest was that he had read them before. They were largely identical to the Code of Conduct back in the capital city. He reread them anyway, to not miss any regional details. It was a good thing he did. 

Several sections outlined proper conduct for working with the Shiekah. No parcels were to be left unattended, even at the household destination. Letters could be left at the residence, so long as they were contained in a formally sanctioned mailbox or within the home via mail-slot. Any letters, parcels or other mailings would be  _ confiscated _ and the resident would have to retrieve them from customs. Ratal read on and found several other strict regulations regarding delivery, rubbed his eyes, and signed the bottoms of the pages. 

The map showed the region of Kakariko Village. It was broken up into six districts- five petals and a center where all the official buildings (including this one) stood. Ratal had tried to navigate the streets in a grid pattern- it was no wonder he couldn’t find the office at first. The key to Kakariko were spirals. Looking at the map he had a few guesses to what the Guarding Patrols looked like. He was rather close to the truth. He stared at the map, closed his eyes to remember it, and observed the map again. Relatively confident in his understanding, he turned in the packet.

The boy behind the counter opened the keyring, removed the map, and spot-checked the rest. He gave Ratal the map to keep, stamped the packet with an All Clear, and fetched a Temporary Regional Postman pin. Ratal took off his cap. The pin was affixed next to the rabbit logo. Ratal took a gander at the cap before putting it back on. 

“You’re all set.” The boy gave him a thumbs-up. “You can either report to the Head Master to be assigned a mailbag, or patrol one of the districts to collect mail for the Office. Lunch is at noon, precisely. Dinner is served at 5.25pm. I advise being a touch early.”

“Thank you.” 

He folded the map into eigths and tucked it away under his vest. He was about to head out before he remembered the head of his pennent. Ratal opened up his bag and started fishing around in it. He felt nothing. It was naught but a void. 

“I had it in this bag, I know I did.” Ratal muttered. “I had used it as a spear, which wasn’t the most intelligent choice…”

The boy only nodded. “It’s gone.”

“Well, not gone, it’s in here somewhere…”

“No, it’s gone.” The boy reached over for an infopamphlet. It had a little cartoon bag drawn on the front. The bag had teeth in its cartoonish smile. “Part of the reason we use such specific postage is to protect the mail. Anything that doesn’t have regulation postage is eaten by the bag.” 

Ratal ran his eyes over the inside of the trifold paper. There was a comic about how Mailbags and Postman were partners, not possessions, and were to be treated with care. There were three things to check for- proper postage, the addressee, and an outside container for the object. No exceptions. Anything else would be consumed by the bag. 

“It’s a  _ creature _ ?” 

“Not exactly.” The boy shrugged and folded his hands. “The objects are converted into energy, though, so I hope you didn’t lose anything important.”

“It was the brass head for my pennent.” Ratal had a hunch he was in trouble. He wasn’t entirely wrong. “I was hoping to repair it, or at least keep it as a trophy.”

The boy shook his head. “They didn’t tell you all this during your training?”

“It was a touch rushed,” he admitted. “I am technically still in mentorship, until this round-trip delivery came up. I was specifically requested.” 

“ _ Ah _ .” The boy reached into his easy-access forms. He drew up a replacement request for Ratal’s pennent. He indicated where Ratal had to sign, stamped it, and slipped it into the air-shuttle to the Postmaster. “I’ll waive the penalty fee this time, but do be more careful.”

Ratal bowed out of habit. “There wouldn’t be a way where I can carry a real weapon, could I?”

The boy tilted to and fro in his seat. “I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, perhaps you should head out to the 3rd District. Most Postment tend to skip over it because it’s the residential area for training Sheikah Warriors, and they tend to keep us ‘lively’. If you’re willing to fight with a pennent, then perhaps that area is less frightening for you than the Postmaster.”

Ratal took the cue. 


	37. A Day of Loamol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loamol's great, and I think it's time to take a glance at what she's dealing with.

It was the last month of the season. With winter coming, that meant it was all hands on deck in the castle. The fence posts Tamo’s Squad had been dutifully working on, and was hoping to finish before the cold snap, would have to wait. Phila was on a warpath. The castle was known to be frigid in the cold months without proper preparation. Between her bones taking on some age and the worrisome reports of cold from the mountains, she was not leaving anything to chance. The castle needed to be ready for the cold before it came and not a night later. 

“Is it like this every year?” Loamol leaned in to whisper into Link’s space. Link nodded. He was grateful to have his gloves back for the task, being without them even for a little while had reminded him how spoiled he was. His respect for Loamol’s strength as she moved all the same boxes (albeit with a little trouble) skyrocketed. “A bit hectic, just for a seasonal change.”

“Oh, it’s tradition.” 

“Traditions are things that enrich culture, and define a people.” Loamol’s tone soured. 

“Yes,” Link hoisted a box onto his chest, balanced it on his knee, and adjusted his grip. “And this defines us as terribly disorganized and maladapted people. I always tried to make a point of disappearing just before it started, but I would always feel guilty and come help anyway.”

“Guilty or hungry?”

“A man can be both.”

 Link dragged the box off into the sea of people asking what was in boxes and where they were going. Someone mentioned for the twelfth time today that a box was mislabeled. Loam was handed several boxes in a stack and pointed in a direction. The person didn’t have time to give her actual instructions. She carried them off and hoped that, unlike her last batch, someone at the other end would have an idea of what she was supposed to do with them. 

As the boxes settled into their places, folks were reassigned into corridors and rooms to pack and unpack. Link dutifully tailed Loamol to her new assignment. As they passed through the castle, she noticed that sometimes Link would step up and keep other servants, other guards, away from her. He was doing more than keeping a path clear or keeping doors open. He was guarding her. His eyes were never still. She often caught his ears twitching to conversations too low for her to hear. He was taking other’s opinions and relationships with Loamol under scrutiny. She wasn’t the only one to notice. Once they had reached the Grand Hall to help change the curtains, the people around them thinned and wandering eyes learned to focus on the task at hand.

Link stood up a curtain rod on one end and scrunched the scalloped velvet over it. He looked Loamol in the eye to catch her attention, and then spoke to her in her own tongue. “I wanted to talk to you about what you mentioned before.”

 Loamol cast him a sideways glance. Hesitance. She found herself looking at the room of people. She caught some of them looking back at her. “Perhaps this isn’t the best time.”

Link glanced over his shoulder. A particularly slow servant was still staring. She expected him to perhaps cast a cold glare, but instead he relaxed. He gave her a laugh. “Oh pay them no mind. The servants are going to gossip anyway. They gossip about us, we gossip about them,” Loamol got the feeling he wasn’t talking about her anymore. “It’s a beautiful cycle of misinformation.”

“Is that what you did to pass the time before you left?”

“Oh, yeah.” Link passed the end of the curtain rod to Loamol, who had a much easier time reaching the window top. “Good cup of tea, a lot of eavesdropping. Literally, mind you. We,” and now Loamol knew he meant Zelda, when they were younger, “would hide in the rafters and the eaves of the castle and just listen to the people who thought they were alone. Who needs acting troupes when everyone is already a fool? Ha!”

“It is the jester on the stage that casts the light on the fools in the shadows.” Loamol smiled back. Link arched his eyebrows and gave an agreeable nod. “Not that I am anyone to speak on manners of Hylians, but did you not have better things to do with your time?”

“It wasn’t about killing time.” Link cast a glance over the room. “Everyone was always talking about  _ us _ . They were always talking about who we were supposed to be and what we were supposed to be doing and honestly they would cross some  _ bold lines _ \- it was only fair that we take pleasure in their lives. Anyone dumb enough to air their personal affairs in the corridors of this castle were already aware of the risks.”

The rod gently clicked into place under her fingertips. She turned to the next box and pulled out the frills. “You are being hypocritical. Speaking in another tongue is not a perfect protection.”

“True,” Link held up his hand, all five fingers spread. “There are five people in this castle that speak Gerudo. You, obviously, me, our son, Zelda sort of, and the Historian. The other three are not in this room, so anyone who manages to get any nugget of our conversation has worked damn hard, and in my opinion, has earned it.”

“Zelda speaks Gerudo?” The princess had never mentioned it, or even tried.

“Modern Gerudo is remarkably close to Ancient Shiekan, which made it a lot easier for me to pick up. It’s actually closer to Ancient Shiekan than its modern counterpart. Rather interesting stuff.”

“Hm,” was all that Loamol said. Her thoughts, on the other hand, had a lot to add. Some of the legends she heard as a girl suggested that the Sheikah were the ancestors of the Gerudo. Others said that another tribe split and made both peoples. Many women in her youth debated that these stories were created by the Sheikah in attempts to take what little freedoms and riches they had, to further grind them into the dust as  _ lesser _ people. Loamol tried not to have an opinion. It ultimately failed, when she was ridiculed for her people’s apparent folly for abandoning the Shiekah traditions for greed.  _ Traded wisdom for gold _ they had said, and she fell silent while a room roared with laughter and moved on. Opinions always seem to form when they are least wanted, and most oppositional.

“Anyway.” Link switched back to Hylian for the one word. It was a break in thoughts. She wondered what he had been thinking during her mental diatribe. He looked tired, as if he had just survived his own thoughts. He glanced up at her handkerchief. The silver stitchings reflected the warm lights of the hall with its own cold restraint. He looked back down into a box when their eyes met. He cleared his throat and continued in Loamol’s tongue. “The form you took in the Temple was that of Twinrova.”

_ That is ridiculous _ . Loamol thought to herself. Twinrova was a creature in the night to scare girls into honouring their history. She was a shadow behind the king who punished the daughters who rebelled against their own people. How could a monster be both fire and ice? Loamol had been convinced with her other sisters that there was nothing to be afraid of, because Twinrova was a puddle of water. They made faces at the puddles in the rain to show they were not frightened of her. When they stomped in the water, they showed that they were loyal to the Daughters of Din and had no one to be afraid of. 

“I’m sorry to say I don’t know much about her, or her different incarnations,” Link added. He was aware of Loamol’s silence. He could see the rejection on her face. He knew that train of thought. He had seen it in the mirror plenty of times. “I only know how to take her down. I don’t suppose that’s too helpful for you.”

“You could not have fought her.” Loamol sensed it was a lie as it came out of her mouth. She expected to see an incredulous look on his face. If he was thinking, she could not read it. His face was calm, without tension, and without expression entirely. She felt a chill. She said, more quietly, “she is not real.”

“She was real when I was a boy.” Link pulled heavy chair covers out of the boxes. Then, as if he hadn’t just spoken words that shook Loamol’s very being, he added- “Oh, these are supposed to be in the study. Wait, no, wrong size. These go to the library. Wait- yeah, the Library.”

He waved over one of the servants and redirected the box. The servant sighed, objected that they weren’t going to the library, and then realized that  _ well, they were now. _ Link slid over the next box with his foot and unfolded the top. “Here we go, tiny curtains.”

“ _ What do you mean, when you were a boy? _ ” Loamol snatched the tiny curtain out of his hand. He passed her the narrow curtain rod that went with it. “You do not mean to say you  _ fought her? _ ”

Link put up his hands. “No, I did not.” 

“Then what  _ do _ you mean?”

“I mean I ran until she stopped chasing me. I was not prepared, equipped, or stupid enough to try.” Link folded his arms and looked to the floor. He furrowed his brow. “Honestly there was no way I could have beaten her with a stick and a slingshot. Ingenuity only goes so far.” 

Loamol said her next words slowly. She kept an ear to her own tongue to ensure she did not speak in the Hylian tongue. Her hand gripped the curtain rod like a nightstick. She could feel her bandanna strain. It rippled its effects against her scalp, through her hair like a thunderstorm. 

“The night Jokoh came, he meant to drown me, abuse me, force me to turn over my son. I burned him. How dare you name me a, a  _ demon! _ Do you know what that beast would have done, what he intends of my King?”

Her tone was enough. For them to be speaking in their own secret language alone had drawn the scowling attention of some servants. Now the room was divided by those who could not look and those who could not look away. Link was the latter. He finally wore an expression. There was surprise with a flash of genuine concern. He was looking less at her face and more at her hair. 

Someone ran up. One of the women, coarse hands and hair slipping from it’s trappings, pattered her feet across the dance hall. Loamol feared the worst. She thought the girl was running for the guards. Link feared the worst. He thought she was running for the Council. Instead the woman did neither. She took Loamol’s hand in her own, looked Link dead in the eye, and put her whole body into her voice. 

“How  _ dare _ you!” 

Link blinked. 

Loamol broke out of her fury and she blinked. 

The girl did not blink, wince, or otherwise break eye contact. “This poor woman goes through enough trouble without you going out of your way to upset her! Shame on you! Shame on your  _ blood _ . If you’re going to be more trouble than help you can  _ leave _ . Go entertain the chickens, why don’t you?”

Link had practice being scolded. He was usually scolded for something he  _ did _ , rather than something he said, but instinct told him the same rules applied. He kept his mouth shut. He bowed his head to the furious woman, and to Loamol. He put one foot behind the other and he ducked out of the room. His input was not needed. He could speak to Loamol later, make amends when he figured the right words to use. He didn’t think he had done anything wrong, but that didn’t seem to matter these days.

Not as important but thrice as interesting, he now had a  _ name _ . He had a connection, a name, and something to say. That was all one needed to send a letter. He picked up a piece of paper from a guardpost, a quill from a cup near the storehouse, and some ink from a desk no one was currently sitting at. He could be missing for a few hours to ensure his handwriting was perfect. He doubted it would cause him to be late to his ‘not-a-date’ with Zelda, but even if it did, she would have agreed wholeheartedly. 

Gannondorf and Loam were under his protection, and it was time Jokoh understood that. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

When evening rolled around, the Princess needed fresh air, and Loam needed a change of scenery. They took seats in the courtyard overlooking the Swift Violets. They sat in the quiet for a time, sipping their warm tea in the gentle breeze. Loamol could feel herself healing. Once Zelda had finished her cup, she set it on her lap. Gentle fingers graced the ceramic cup. 

“I have to thank you.” The princess admitted.

“For what, your highness, if you do not mind my asking?”

“It has been a long while since I’ve had a friend.” The melancholy of her voice slipped through the thin smile, both sentiments equally genuine. “People worth keeping as company are few and far between.”

“You flatter me overmuch, your highness.” Loamol bowed her head, but her eyes half-closed into a coy pleasure. “As your subject it pleases me to bring you joy in these times.”

Zelda had to laugh. “You consider yourself one of  _ my _ subjects?”

“Was I not born under Hylian rule?” Loamol sat back into the bench. She stared into the violets. They were lovely- brilliant shades of indigo against the soft green leaves. “I was born and raised in Castletown, after all. As were my daughters. Our King may be born, but we will always be of the Hylian Kingdom.”

Zelda looked into her empty cup. She wondered if this was how Loamol felt- beautiful and empty. They sat in silence for a time. The Princess’ thoughts swirled around the tea stains of the cup. Loamol still sipped softly. After a time Loamol sighed- she let go.

“I was speaking with Link today.” 

Zelda raised an eyebrow. She looked up to be polite, but her eyes stayed on the flowers. “Oh?”

“He said the form that I took in order to protect my son against his father was that of Twinrova.” Loamol finished her tea with a gulp. She tapped her thumb against the spoon. 

Zelda cast a glance, not at Loam but to her bandanna. Loamol noticed. Zelda let her eyes fall back to the woman’s face. She felt the Gerudo read her through, and then look away. 

“You believe him.” Loamol said it with distaste.

What was she to say? “I have little reason to doubt him.”

“In…” she started, paused to see if it was what she wanted to say, and then continued. “In the temple, when this form was first awakened in me, I announced that my son was not a monster. Only then was I accepted, and the nightmare released. The being within the temple only stated “close enough”, as if I barely passed their judgement. This… form, whatever it may be in truth, makes me feel as if  _ I _ am the monster. I cannot help but wonder if I am meant to be one.”

Zelda’s eyebrows went up. “My mother says that all mothers are monsters, only we wear dresses to hide our hooves until we need to kick someone’s ass.” 

Loamol blinked several times. She turned to Zelda. The two of them chuckled. “She said no such thing.”

“Ask her if you like.” Zelda let her smile grow. 

“If I am given the opportunity, I shall.” Loamol looked at their empty teacups. She stood up and held out her hand to take Zelda’s cup. “First, would you like more tea, your highness?”

“Loamol, please.” Zelda patted the bench beside her. “I am glad that working in the castle has passed your time, but do not let other’s assumptions of your position sink in. You are only in the servants wing because I had to concede on several of my initial points. I only wish I had been able to use my full proposal, but that cannot be helped now.”

The woman sat back down. She set the teacups aside. She tucked her feet under the bench. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. She wasn’t sure how everyone else who saw them would see her, sitting with the Princess so casually. 

“You feel lost?” 

Loamol looked up to see that Zelda had been staring at her. It was an observant stare, one that took in all the unspoken words so easily. It did not help that Loamol felt her walls melting in the Princess’ presence. 

“Perhaps.” Loamol folded her hands together. “While raising my daughters, I knew what to protect them from, where to go, how to pass down our culture to them, as future orators of our people. For my son, he requires guidance of an entirely different nature. His environment is different, even from what he is used to. It is not easy to navigate these sands.”

Zelda took Loamol’s hands in her own. “You miss your daughters.”

“Terribly.”

Zelda looked around. There were too many ears, too many eyes. She decided to give what little Gerudo she had practiced a try. Rough, broken, and more derived from Ancient Shiekan than from actual Gerudo texts, she spoke like a stuttering child. “When I go, hidden in the world, I will look (for) your daughters.”

Loamol didn’t know what to say. Before she had gathered enough of her thoughts, Zelda retreated inside. Their time was up. To keep from being thought as too relaxed, she picked up the teacups and retreated back to the kitchens to wash them. 

She didn’t know whether to be more worried for the Princess to be running away into the world, or for her daughters who she did not even know if they had survived. She told herself that all would be well. She had to. The silver threading of the bandanna could only reign in so much.


	38. Self Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, Jokoh is back! :D Y'all must be excited.

Impa rode off through the gate with Maple on broomstick close behind. The sun would not rise for another few hours. Loamol stood in the stable shivering. She watched them leave until they were long out of sight, long after the drawbridge gate closed behind them. 

Link picked up a saddle blanket it threw it around her shoulders. It was scratchy and smelled of hay. She clutched it around her anyway. It was better than the cold. She took the moment to sit before her long day of chores officially began. She worried for her son. 

“He’ll be fine.” Link leaned against the stable’s frame. He didn’t have any pockets in his sleep clothes and so his thumbs tucked into the waistband of his pants. Loamol stared at him- not because it was a weird thing to do, but because he still was not wearing a shirt. He thought she was staring at the scarring, but her eyes did not follow the slashes and splatter. “What?”

“How are you not cold?” 

He shrugged. “It’s not cold.”

“You lie.”

He broke into a smile. “It’s only autumn.”

“ _ Only? _ ” 

They chuckled between them. Link looked to the sky, like a calander. He watched the constellations swerve around the heavens in preparation for the Winter Arrangement. She looked down at her feet. She considered doubling up her socks. 

“I’m sorry.” Link spoke just loud enough for her to hear. He didn’t look at her- he never did when he apologized. He always found something else to fix his attention on, as if apologizing to a twig or tomato plant was easier than apologizing to a person. “I… should have been more respectful of your situation.”

“Twinrova is a monster in our tongue,” she explained. Link was just awake enough to realize that ‘tongue’ did not just mean the language, but also the many stories and many histories they spoke. “She is cruel and ruthless, but also law and expectation. It is… difficult to translate, really.”

“Judge, Jury and Executioner.” Link supplied. Loamol looked up at him- but he was still looking elsewhere. Perhaps it was not so difficult to translate after all. “I… would be lying if I said I didn’t expect it.”

“Because you knew the monster was usually associated with the Mother of the King.” Loamol tugged the blanket closer about her shoulders, but it did nothing for the chill in her bones. She heard Link finally move. She watched him push off from the beam of the stable, and gently sit himself down next to her. He took a moment to think, and decided to hold out his arm for her to sit closer. She dragged herself, scratchy blanket and all, up to the small Hylian to steal some of his warmth. “We all figured that it was a nasty fairy tale, told about a woman who had to work so hard and had to become so powerful to protect the King until he was ready to protect his people.”

“I can agree with that.” Link spoke softer now, as if he did not want anyone else listening in. “Even if a woman was frail of spirit before she was a mother, having a child to protect can make a Lynel out of anyone. Add on legions of bitter gossip and struggling against the tide at every turn, well, can’t say I blame her.” 

Link was a hard person to be mad at for long, Loamol had learned. At least, not for the same reason. He would ruin it eventually with something else, but not until he was already forgiven. Clever bastard. 

“You said you knew how to take her down, but you still ran away?” It wasn’t really what Loamol wanted to know, but the statement had bothered her. “Was she that strong?”

Link nodded. He considered his options before speaking, but gave in. She could tell in his face that he had considered lying, or at least hiding the truth. She found herself bracing. “In order to fight her, I need to reflect her own abilities back at herself. That requires a sturdy shield, and of course, my sword. I had neither at the time.”

Loamol squinted. “Wait, you didn’t have your sword?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“It was kept in the Lost Wood for the time being, instead of a temple or sacred grove, which meant that I had to go through the place nearly unarmed, never having been there before, prove to the sword I was strong enough to weild it, and then make it back out. I chose to fight with literally anything else for nearly a year. I was nine before I worked up the nerve to try.” 

“You were  _ nine _ when you found Twinrova?!”

“Eight. And she found me. Rather quickly, too.”

“...Because you were foretold to be her son’s downfall.”

Link squeezed her shoulders. He cut right through the harrowing understanding and to the mother shivering in the autumn morning. “You’re not her, Loamol. You’re brillaint, and gentle, and rational. At every turn you’ve helped him look at the world and find ways to make things better. You may have fire and ice, but it has not defined you. I should not have compared you so carelessly.”

Loamol closed her eyes. “Thank you.”

They stayed there until Loamol’s teeth chattered. He helped her to her feet, bowed goofily to the Mother of the King, and took his leave. There was plenty of work to do in the castle still, and the day’s work was bound to be cut short. Rumour had it that a wonderful little swordfight between the Princess and her Ex-Knight would be taking place in the afternoon. The bets were on. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Jokoh stared at the postman. They freaked him out. Some people had a fear of clowns, which once he had seen a Jester cast a series of illusions about bloody Hylian history, he could agree with. He could still punch a Jester though. Depending on what the Jester was doing at the time, people might even applaud him for it. Postmen? You could not punch a Postman. It would either lead to a hefty fine, a dungeon sentance, or the startling realization that Postmen sometimes had to fight the Nightmares of the Hylian Field At Night. Jokoh was not comfortable with things he could not punch. It left him without agency, without control, and vulnerable. 

“Please read the form and if you accept this parcel and this letter, please sign for it. I don’t have all day.” 

Right. Of course. One parcel was from the Witch on the Bay. Wasn’t that the one who saved his life? He did not want to accept it, but upsetting her seemed to be worse. He signed for it. The letter, on the other hand, was not in a hand he recognized. Letters did not require a sender like packages did. With the paperwork complete, the postman turned on his heels. Jokoh waited until the postman was around the corner to close his door. 

Curiosity begged at the envelope. Discomfort begged at the package. Jokoh set the package on his wobbly kitchen table and dragged his thumb under the envelope. Inside was proper parchment, not shoddy paper. His heart peeked out of its hiding place. This was a person with  _ money _ . 

_ Dear Asshole, _

 

__ Excellent start. Jokoh liked this person already. 

 

_ If you are going to pick a fight with someone, start it with someone who actually likes violence. If you would like to claim responsibility and therefore a place in your son’s life, do so in a rational manner. There is enough chaos and trauma in that boy’s life and he does not need yours.  _

__ _ I find it, regretably, to be your business that I have adopted him legally. As his birth father, by law you may reserve the rights to see and provide for your son. As his adoptive father, I reserve the right to behead you where you stand should you cause any harm, physical, mental or emotional, to our son.  _

__ _ As for Loamol, though I have not taken to her as a spouse, she is under Royal protection under the law which binds my contract until court of law settles my trial. By contract I am permitted, and morally obligated, to see to her wellbeing. Consider this a formal warning. Any action taken by you to cause harm, again, be it physical, mental or emotional harm, will provoke me to act in her defense. While I aim to be a gentleman, I am not known to be a gentle man.  _

__

__ _ I look forward to attending your funeral, _

__ _ Link Sink _

__ _ Bearer of Courage _

__ _ Fellow Father of the King _

 

Jokoh leaned against his counter and reread the letter. Was this letter a threat or admission? Apparently it was both. Admittantly, Jokoh had expected this  _ golden boy _ to completely write him out of the picture. Instead this realm-proclaimed-hero was leaving the door unlocked, so to speak. He was admitting Jokoh’s place and extending the olive branch, however short it may be. He was direct. He was admittantly violent. Jokoh found it in himself to plant a seed of respect. Feeling better about himself he took up the courage to open the parcel from Syrup. 

He cracked open the box and winced at the smell that wafted from it. Inside was a jar. It was greasy on one side. In it was his own hair, white and flaking, pickled. On the label was Syrups’ home address, and a generic statement of her services. 

_ Professional Witch, who does many great and powerful things, in a bottle, for a price. _

What could she possibly do with his own hair? He set it down on the table. The thought of his own pickled hair put him off the idea of a meal. He looked back to the letter on his counter. 

Perhaps, yesturday, he might have asked the damned Witch for a favour. Perhaps before he had read the letter, he would have demanded the power to take control of his son. Instead, he had an open door. There were conditions and strings attached there was no doubt, but none of those conditions were a debt to a witch. 

Jokoh put on a pot of water for coffee. Tomorrow he would see his Fellow Father of the King. He wondered if he had any good shirts left. He wondered how much he would have to bribe the guards to get in. He wondered if he should bring an especially long knife. 

~*~*~*~*~*~

__

“Alright, we have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it.” Prince Sidon stood up to his full height with a toothy grin. Maple and Gannon did not look anywhere near as excited as he did. “Tracking down who this property belongs to is going to be an excellent exercise in papertrails.” 

“No offense, your highness,” Maple whined, “but that sounds  _ super _ boring.” 

“Have you never read a mystery novel?” Sidon folded his arms. The kids offered him nothing but a blank stare. “Oh well then you’re in for a treat! For your first mystery story, you get to live it! The first thing we’re gonna have to do is find all the clues.” 

“Does… that mean staring at a lot of paper?” Eko-Gannon rubbed his arm. 

“Only in part. It’s also about talking to people!”

That was better than paperwork. “Who do we talk to?”

“Well, perhaps the merchants near the plot might be a good idea.” Sidon raised an eyebrow. “If you ask me, it might be a good idea to talk to those folks anyway,  _ all things considered. _ ”

Gannon lit up. The Gerudo of the marketplace! Maple tilted her head to the side. “This will give us a good chance to talk to the Mixer Merchant. He seems like he might know a few things.”

“Sounds like you’ve already got a lead!” Sidon gave them a thumbs up. “Before you head out, head down to the kitchens and get yourself some things to bring with you. It’s easy to get caught up into things. It’ll be good if you have food and drink with you when hunger strikes.” 

“I was thinking we’d just get something up there, from the stalls. Get to know the market a bit better.” Maple put her hand in her pocket with her rupees that she’d collected. 

Gannon folded his arms. “Why pay for something when we can get it for free? I’m getting food from the kitchens.”

Sidon blinked to himself. Link had a lot to answer for. 

“Besides, if we want to get something from people we’ll need to give. I have a feeling that if we want to get the information we want, we might have to buy it.” Gannon tapped his webbed-foot against the ice. It made a comedic slapping sound. 

“If we use money to get everything, then we’ll look like crooks too.” Maple stroked her chin. “We should look to see if we can help some of these people, instead of just paying them off. Like, a trade of services instead of goods.”

“That would mean a lot of running around.” 

“So? It’s good for us to learn the layout of the market anyway. Besides, we have Zeel. He can keep us from getting lost.” 

In his sleep, the small fairy glowed in response to his own name. Gannon nodded. That was a good point. “Well, I’m still getting food from the kitchens. I imagine their food is better than what they have on the surface.”

“Healthier, yes.” Sidon nodded. “Also less addicting. I admit I have… perhaps gained a few pounds on long days in the market.” 

“Well Maple could stand to eat a bit more anyway.” Gannon nodded to himself. “All skin and bones. My mother worries.”

Maple rolled her eyes. The two kids had their argument as they wandered through the halls toward the kitchen. Sidon listened to their voices echo. The familial bickering was familiar. It gave him a warm, nostolgic feeling. 

“Brother?” Mipha snuck up behind him. She held her hand to her chest in greeting. He responded in kind. “Aren’t you going with them?”

“Well, until they can read the paperwork it lies on me.”

“You ought to teach them, then.” 

Sidon nodded. “I should. I just worry that they are constantly kept in a classroom at the castle. You know how Princess Zelda can be about studies. I want to give them a chance to stretch their legs and explore their environment. Not just stare at pictures. It’s important.”

Appreciation glowed in her eyes. “Well said. Then it is good we have a playground of cutthroats and cunning thieves above for them to learn with.”

Sidon cast her a side eye.

“I’m just saying that they are still children, and last we checked, one of them is quite dangerous. I would not want to be around when they are provoked.”

Sidon nodded. “True, if Maple is anything like her Grandmother we might not have a market left for them to learn in…”

“I’m glad you learn quickly.” Mipha eased her posture. “That is why I asked Impa to shadow them today. It would be nice to have her perspective, as well. In exchange, for she needs rest as anyone does, I promised her you’d give her one of your infamous massages.”

Sidon didn’t object. He knew better.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Autumn hung over the lake like a festival. Trees from the shoreline dropped their leaves over the ripples and they swirled in kleidescopic patterns over its surface. Kids were playing in the orbs that dried you off after a dip in the lake. It was a perfect day to breathe in the spices and scent of fresh baked bread. 

Maple made a point of stopping through the center and picking up an actual map from the Information Desk. They pulled themselves out of the crowd looking for work. Unable to get out of the trample, they ducked into the Spire that topped the staircase down below. They sat down on the floor and unfolded the map. 

“Alright, so we’re… here.” Maple pointed to the middle of the map- just off center. The spire was easy to find. “And… the district we’re looking for is…”

“All the way over here, I think.” Gannon pointed to the upper left corner. “I remember this weird little traingle of shops. Yeah! I remember how these streets bend. I think Mr. Mixer would be… here.”

Maple squinted at the map. It sounded right? “You know how to read a map?”

Gannon shrugged. “When you spend all your time travelling, you get used to it pretty quickly, I guess.”

“Oh, right.” Maple sat back on her heels. “Your people are normally nomadic. Why is that?”

Gannon shrugged. “It’s who we are.”

That didn’t really satisfy Maple, but she knew she wasn’t going to get a better answer from him. She folded up the map. It didn’t sit right. She unfolded it and tried again. It still puffed and bent in the wrong ways. 

“You wouldn’t know how to fold a map, would you?”

Gannon unfolded it on the floor, and then pinching the edge, rolled it up into a scroll. He tapped on Zeel’s pocket. The two looked around to see if anyone was watching, and satisfied that they were alone, shifted Gannon back to his Gerudo self. He borrowed a hairclip and clipped it around the map. Zeel shifted him back into a Zora. 

“Folding maps is for people who like to complicate things.” Gannon smiled with pride. “This is much easier.” 

Maple agreed with a curt nod. “Off to see Mr. Mixer, then?”

As they vanished back into the market, the Shiekah Stone in the center of the landing glimmered. It vibrated with excitement. Word would spread. All of the stones would know the juicy gossip.

 


	39. The Princess and her Ex-Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get a good look at the relationship between Link and Zelda. It's about as clear as mud, which has been a good stress point between the two of them for about a decade now. They're fine.
> 
> Oh, this entire chapter is one fight. There's a little bit of blood? Not too bad.

To the disappointment of many, Link stepped into the sparring square fully dressed. This caused little more than murmuring and lesser bets being paid, but Loamol found herself beginning to  _ worry _ . It wasn’t that she doubted the Princess in a fight, she was clearly strong in character, but for Link to actually take some level of precaution? That was unheard of. Lomaol was glad she had kept her money out of it. 

The disappointment from Link’s chosen attire was made up by the Princess herself, who while covered from head to toe, was actually in some rather slim-fitting armour of the Shiekah. Loamol was surprised to see her out of a dress, but only because she had never seen the Princess otherwise. It suited her. She stood defiant in the sparring square, her rapier comfortably poised in hand. 

Loamol wished she had brought a snack. 

Link was sizing her up. This was not the first time that they had faced off in the ring, and it would not be the last. They used to do this two, three times a week, but for years only with capped foils and never with an audience such as this. This fight was different. He did his best to tune out the murmurs of the crowd pulling at the barriers.  _ This is gonna be good. I wonder if she’s going to kill him this time? Imagine if she gets hurt- he’d never see the light of day again! Man, I should have brought snacks. _

What worried him most was that her face was kept in a neat frown. It wasn’t one of displeasure. It was the kind that was professional, explicitly not smiling, perfectly in reserve. It was as if she was standing in the courtroom beside her mother, listening to the petitions and pleadings of her people. It was performative. 

_ Aw shit. _ Link bit at the inside of his cheek. He rubbed his incomplete pinky against the side of his thumb. Two things occurred to him at once. First, she had seen this fight before. She knew what was going to happen. Secondly, that meant that this fight had a precise purpose, and he didn’t know what it was yet.  _ Fucking damnit. _

Her eyes read his face, and reflected back to him.  _ Yeah, sorry. _

He nodded. He tapped the sword against the heel of his boot for good luck. With a sigh and a shuffle of his shoulders he replied,  _ Well, let’s get on with it. _

Zelda leaped forward with her rapier, whipping through the sound barrier. There was no bowing, no respect exchanged. She went from standing in one corner, to clashing against Link’s blade in the next. The flat of his short sword slapped against his right palm. She didn’t let him root his balance against her momentum- instead bringing up her knee to keep up her assault. Link drew back his leg so he could face his hip to her, and her knee grazed the front of his leg instead of her intended target. 

“Ahh,  _ no _ .” Link hissed. He tucked his boot behind her back foot and launched his shoulder into her swordarm. She swung her feet around to prevent herself from stumbling back. When her face was far enough for him to see it, she was slightly smirking. “You’re not cute.”

She backhopped to reset her stance against him. He drew his feet closer together and walked to her side. She kept her voice low, and spoke in Ancient Sheikan. The fight was public. It’s value was private. “Have you tapped into your Courage since you sealed the tomb, Link?”

He carefully turned his sword arm to her, ready for her to continue her advance. He maintained the ancient tongue. “Don’t exactly need it for fence posts.”

“You should do so of your own will before it is provoked of you.” Zelda warned. They paced about their space, circling predators. They chipped away at their patience with grazing blades. While Zelda had twice as much reach with her rapier, Link had twice as much patience. It was time to wear him down.

Zelda reversed her grip on the rapier and snapped it flush against the outside of her arm. She lurched forward throwing her weight into her arm toward his shoulders. 

_ Thirteen. For the first time, she would be up against a person instead of a posing pile of sticks. Finally she would be recognized for all her progress for her studies. Not only was her opponent of skill, but the very hero she had saved. For their safety, they were given deku sticks instead of tipped foils. Zelda bowed to start the fight- and didn’t have the time to answer his strike.  _

_ He pinned his deku stick against her neck and closed his body against her chest before she had the space to swing her own mock sword in defense. He swung his foot behind her knee and with his shoulder- _

Zelda pushed Link over her foot. Instead of giving into the shove, he shifted his weight and leaned into the sharp rapier against his shoulders. The chainmail underneath scrunched against the long blade. Instead of blocking with his right arm, he grabbed her around the waist and dragged her center of balance in tune with his shift. She tumbled toward the dirt. She pressed her rapier to his shoulder and caught a link in his chainmail. As she fell, she dragged him with her. They fell into the dirt, Link trapping his sword arm under his own weight, and Zelda’s knee to the small of his back. There were an assortment of amused whoops and whistles from the audience. 

He rolled along the back of his shoulders and roused to his feet. His face was stern, but his eyes were laughing. He stabbed at Zelda to the dirt like a child threatening a snake. Zelda took this opportunity to dodge his snapping strikes by rolling in the dirt. She rolled close to his feet, pulled herself up by his bootstrap-

_ And as Link got up, she caught him throwing his knee into her side. She was surprised to catch it, but she was fifteen now and she was already suffering enough from cramps. She did not want to be out here fighting someone who didn’t give her a break, but she wasn’t going to let anyone assume she was weaker for being a woman.  While she had his leg in her hand, she took this wonderful opportunity to- _

Link slipped his hand from the front of her knee to the back, gripping her calf between pinching fingers. He clearly remembered the first time Zelda had broken his nose against her forehead, and while the opportunity to repay the favour was tempting, the pause in combat was more alluring. She could feel the held breath of the audience. They weren’t children anymore. Zelda wore the smile on her face that he didn’t dare.

Then she whipped him across the back of his thighs with her rapier. He yanked up her leg and she cartwheeled backwards to roll the momentum into her own favour.  She held up her blade to show the thinnest line of blood on her edge. She shook her head. 

“Are you gonna kiss‘im or kill’im?!” It could have been anyone’s voice in the crowd, but Link would have bet a few rupees that it was Lo. He would have lost, only because Ko and Lo sounded alike. 

“They do have a point, dear.” Zelda smirked. “I did say this wasn’t a date.” 

“Did you?” Link spun the shortsword in his hand, fanning through his fingers. “I distinctly remember you dodging the statement...”

The banter ended quickly. Zelda straightened her shoulders, fixed her stance and soothed her breathing. Her eyes lit up. The crowd hushed. They looked to Link to see if he would do the same. He tightened his grip on his sword instead. They took it as a sign of confidence. They were wrong. 

Zelda could see the hum of Link’s boots. She could see the faint glow on his hand beneath the skin. She could see his shadow moving as he shifted through his decisions. Half-step back, roll of the wrist, eyes measuring the footprints in the dust for precise distance. She could see the healing wound in his wrist- no doubt from being reckless putting up fences. She could see that he hadn’t eaten in a while. Over all this she could feel his thoughts. They were all over the place, and all of them wrestled with anxiety. It was time to focus him. 

“You’re a mess.” Zelda spat, in clear hylian. Her voice poured over the crowd, splintered through a thousand lifetimes. He didn’t argue, mostly because he hadn’t expected it. “How can I trust you to clear out the Temples, much less with more of  _ my _ soldiers,  _ my _ men, following in your haphazard shadow? Your time in hiding has made you  _ dull _ .”

A red point formed in his core. It was fear, she knew. She watched through her Wisdom, his thoughts pulling away from their scattered places to weave around the red point. He was feeling it out, examining his concerns, the weight and truth of her accusation. He could  _ hear _ the bickering in the crowd, the hushed debates of the audience, and he brought them into account. Answers formed with threads dancing around his throat, but plucking them apart he did not choose any of them. A blue thread wove through the rope of green and red ones. That was the one he chose. 

Link bowed low. “Then sharpen me, my princess.” 

The correct response indeed. 

Zelda leaped up into the air, what the audience believed to be halfway to the heavens, and brought down her rapier over his skull. He snapped the short sword against his forearm and dragged his blade against hers. He swerved from underneath her, keeping her close, never letting his blade leave hers. Their eyes locked. He swept his feet in a dance over the dirt and sand. She summoned up magic from her blood, and the reflection of the spell dancing around her irises reflected in his mundane, sapphire eyes. 

Her blade reverberated against his. The buzzing agitated the wound in his wrist. She watched his fingers inch against the hilt of his sword, unable to escape without letting go. With his blade level against his arm, the spell echoed up into his funny bone, into his shoulder. He snarled, and she smiled, because she knew it wasn’t quite  _ pain _ . Link could handle pain. What bothered him was discomfort, and the longer it persisted the angrier he became. It was why he stopped sleeping in trees. 

_ Every step back he took to disengage from the spell, she advanced another step to maintain contact. Normally, whenever she used spells, he could withstand it. It did not matter if he burned or he froze, he would endure. It wasn’t until she saw herself casting a spell in the mirror that she understood why. With every strong spell, the brim of her irises gave away how long she could hold the spell in place. All he had to do was wait- her eyes gave her strength away. He just had to endure and counter when she was exhausted. She tried it again with a weak spell, holding a feather in place against the breeze. Nothing moved. More accurately, when looking closely, the gold of her irises moved so slowly she could not perceive it from a normal distance away. Zelda smiled to herself. Now they sparred, but without the perceptible time to measure, suddenly his resistance to her upsetting spells went up in smoke. Suddenly he claimed her a cheater to be using spells against someone who could not… _

He pushed against her rapier upward, and with his right hand, he punched her in the rib. Zelda buckled. She dropped the spell and worse, dropped her eye contact. Link’s blade detached from hers. For a split second she was not perfectly aware of where he was or what he was doing. She heard him pivot on the toe of his boot. When she looked up, his head had snapped back around from his spin, and his far leg was just below eye level. His heel connectect against the back of her shoulder and she toppled forward. The crowd gasped, and Loamol herself shrieked. 

She was still armed, but on the ground. This wasn’t entirely a problem, and the pain across her back was an excellent motivator. She slashed her rapier against his ankle, and with his howl he snapped his far boot back to the ground onto her arm. Other soldiers would have tapped out, their sword arm trapped under a leather boot that weighed like steel. Zelda was not like her men, and prided herself on being a stubborn bitch. 

She rolled onto the back of her shoulders, and with a twist of her waist, a snap of her knee, she kicked him in the nose. It didn’t break, largely because she didn’t hit him on the right angle from her upside down view. She tucked her ankles underneath the back of his chin and with her core muscles that would put serpents to shame, she threw him forward. He twisted to tumble onto his shoulder instead of his face. She rolled back onto her feet with little effort. Before he could use the momentum to get him back up, she stomped another spell into the dirt. 

Frost thin as fabric made the disturbed dirt sharp. It gripped at the sweat in his shirt and scraped at his skin. It made his boots loose purchase until he tapped his toe into its surface to break it. His fingers curled away from the cold. 

“I hate ice.” He muttered. He didn’t mean to.

“I know.” Zelda cooed. She did. 

He was going to get up if she did not move against him. He was going to make an opening for himself to strike if she did not take it from him. She planted her foot squarely in the center of his back. She leaned in on it, and then pointed the tip of her rapier to the back of his shoulder. Other soldiers would have tapped out, knowing that they were cornered and the match was over. Link was not like her other men, and prided himself on being an absolute freak. 

He pushed up on his arms. Her weight did not slow him. She did not move her rapier, and so it pierced his armour, and then the back of his shoulder, and the blade slid through the meat and sinew, and then back through the front of his shirt. The crowd recoiled. This was not how sparring was supposed to go. A pair of blood drops bounced over the ice. 

Slowly the rapier pushed through his shoulder as he extended his arms. When he was at the height, she watched his shadow. She saw his thoughts move before he did. He picked up his sword hand to swipe at her wrist, so she shifted her foot higher on his back to push him back down to the earth. He dropped with a heavy grunt and her rapier scratched against the ice, twisting into his shoulder. 

Still he did not call upon it. She could end him, here and now, cast him to lights. She knew it, he knew it; the audience wondered why she hadn't already. She tilted her head to peer though his knotting thoughts. Then she saw it. It was not one red point, not one shard of fear, but two intertwined. She watched him fight against Courage and the fears in him pulsed with his heartbeat. His thoughts wrapped about them tight, holding the fears fast. The thoughts were  _ feeding _ it. She didn't need a spell, or a bracelet, to read him. 

"He's not here," she said. She spoke in the ancient sheikan tongue so that her words would be private. "He is safe and sound, in the Zora Domain, a whole morning's ride away. It's okay. You can let go." 

His fears broke. They did not disappear, but they shattered into smaller, more manageable pieces. She watched his thoughts separate out the shards into threads, fears worked down into single thoughts that he could wrangle into submission. With his fears pinned into place, he gave Courage a bit of give on the leash. He didn't let go- not completely. He fed a thought into the golden light, one at a time, pulling pale thoughts back through his core. With each thought still in his possession, his fears frayed.  _ He was in control- not Courage, not Fate, and certainly not his circumstances.  _

The crowd could not see it. His face was in the dirt and his hand was under his chest. They knew he was alive- he was still together. He just wasn't  _ moving _ . They didn't see his heels click together. 

They certainly saw the radiant prism though, booming forth into a crystal around him. It shoved the rapier out of his shoulder by the hilt, and threw Zelda back. She tumbled into a roll, and into a crouch. Link got up. His eyes scattered pale gold lights into the broken frost beneath him and his hand showed the crowd that he was embracing his nature. Nayru's Love spun slowly with Link as its axis. Once he stood to his feet, he stared at the crowd. They were silent. 

Looking at Link, and knowing herself, she could believe how some believed them to be Demigods. She could understand why legends and myths were woven of them, not as people but as forces and archetypes. She could comprehend how she was a crystal ball to some, and how to many, Link was a poe disguised. Blood dribbled down his shirt, and his thoughts paid it little mind. He looked her in the eye, and for the thousandth time, Zelda wondered what she looked like to him. A black thought swirled around his sword hand. Zelda took a deep breath. The thought had never won and it would not today.

Link kept up the Zora style. He leveled the blade along to his forearm. She watched his shadow waver and shift, but it did not move. It did not move until he dashed to the side and he dragged his shadow along with it. She stuck out her leg to trip him. Her foot gracefully swept beneath his feet. He slid behind her. His fingers dragged through the dirt. Frost crinkled against his calluses. He leaned into his skid and the sword cut through the ice. She had to hear it to know what he was doing- and he was as loud as she wished. 

She pivoted with her rapier. Her arm came around and he caught her forearm in his hand. He stood, taking her with him into a twirl. Link tossed her from the dance and steadied his step. He flashed her a smile. She couldn’t help it- she smiled back. 

_ Sixteen, and for the first time since Link spoke, they were finally sparring again. They wasted no time and immediately embraced their lights. They felt their way through forms and simple parries. There was no break from the perfect stances, perfect carry, perfect poise. Link smiled- it was the one move she did not anticipate.  _

_ He kept up the practice. He maintained the rigid shoulders of the Hylian Knights. His feet did not. In the dust he swept into the waltz they had studied the week before. He pressured her perfect poise to keep up with his three four time. It was either waltz with him, or not meet his blows. She complied.  _

_ It was difficult to mesh the same perfect sparring patterns she had practiced for so many years when the timing was wrong. It was harder still to keep up the dance she did not care for. Zelda was not to be defeated by this, obviously, and soon she had adjusted enough to take the lead role in the dance. She took three steps to force him back, and ever the clever one, she switched her steps to a dance she liked much better. He had to match her steps or not meet her blows, and with a growing smile, he complied.  _

Zelda kept her dance steps poised between Link’s feet, waiting for him to trip. With her every step he made room for her. Their blades ground their edges in the few inches between their chests. He knew where she would plant her feet before she did it, and she saw his shadow plan out for the steps he knew she would make. Through her lights she saw his future, and through his lights he saw her past. He was simply following the pattern that was set for him, reliving their many spars over and over-

She leaned against her steel. She shoved his blade away from her chest to make room for her own strike. His shadow’s arm flared out, and Link’s sword arm was quick to follow. His shadow advanced on her to her side, so she half-stepped back through the dance to avoid him. She saw the gentle turn too late. 

Link wrapped around to her side. His sword arm draped across her chest. She backed into him. His sword snapped taught against her. On one side of her chin was her rapier pinned. On the other side, his short sword’s blade mirrored her rapier. She felt his breath on her hair. His foot swept between hers. It was checkmate. 

Link did not let go. Zelda glanced down at his wrist. The black thought wound through his wrist bones. It was thicker. It was stronger. It wound up his thumb to press his blade closer to her. So close, she could taste how sweet the thought was. She closed her eyes. She let Wisdom fall back into her core. She chose to trust him.

Steel fell from her neck. She heard him stab the short sword into the dirt, more in defiance than victory. She exhaled. Zelda sheathed her rapier back into her belt. She turned, bowed to Link, and absent-mindedly, he mirrored the gesture. The audience was cheering, but their heart was not in it. They cheered because the fight was over. Link let go of his lights. 

“Do you want me to reset you?” Zelda whispered. She eyed his shoulder, and was still vaguely aware of the blood in his sock.

Link shook his head; lazily waved a hand. “A few stitches and it’ll be fine. Besides, I will likely see Princess Mipha before we go in.”

Zelda tilted her head in agreement. She led the way out of the sparring square. Link followed close behind. Before she could depart back to her castle duties, Link touched her shoulder. 

[Thank you, for having my back.] Link signed. 

Zelda lifted up his chin with the side of her knuckles. She signed back. [And you mine.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 25:  
> “It’s an Oath, Gannon.” Link let his hand go. “You have a vow to your people that you must uphold. It’s not a promise. It cannot be broken. I cannot die because I am sworn to protect Zelda and her people. That is an Oath."


	40. Headspace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get Ratal this chapter! And some Mipha too. We talk a bit about mental health in this chapter as well.

Ratal was getting the hang of Kakariko Village. He was starting to like the winding patrols that made him dance across the map. He he grew to love, however, was the district of Training Sheikah. They kept him on his toes. In the Castle, the Shiekah were already fully fledged. They had no need to make sport of the Castle Guards. Ratal was starting to think this was a missed opportunity. His senses never felt so alive. He had never before used his nose to sniff out an enemy, but now he was learning the different cliques of the training Shiekah by the scents they gathered. Some smelled of incense, others of flowers, others of fruit. Whenever he collected or delivered mail there, he could sense if one of the Sheikah were in training by how they watched him. He watched them back, as best as he could. 

“Excellent. You’ve returned.” The boy at the desk did not look up from his paperwork. He knew every postman by their gait, and with Ratal marching as a guard, he was easy to hear. “Your return parcel is ready for pickup.”

“Already?” Ratal did not mean to say it aloud. He suddenly realized he did not want to leave Kakariko. 

“Is there a problem?”

“No, sir, of course not. I will report post-haste.”

“Excellent.”

Ratal paused. “Would your region be accepting transfers, at this time?”

The boy looked up. He raised an eyebrow. “I will look into it for you. I have your registry numbers and pertinent information on file. However this region is high in demand, due to the quiet lifestyle. I would not wager your hopes.”

“Thank you.”

“May your deliveries be punctual,” was all the boy had to say.

Ratal jogged up the hill to where the lonely house stood. There was less junk in the yard- or rather some of the junk had been dismantled into smaller junk. The house still smelled of smoke, but on its whisps it carried a light, acidic sting. It was more than coal and wood that was burning. Ratal pulled out his clipboard, knocked on the door and prepared the quill. He waited long enough that he was about to knock again when the door flew along its hinges.

“I have it!” She bellowed at him. Her lungs beat against the air. Her body leaned over the door handle. Hair fell over her face, her shoulders, and some of it fell out. “I did it! Hah! I… I knew it all along. Just a matter. Just a matter of  _ dedication _ .” 

“I am proud of you.” Ratal announced in monotone. She looked up. She looked like a wilted plant seeing water. “Are you ready to post it?”

She blinked at him. “Right. Return to sender. Right. Right. Yes. Box. Same box will be good. I have it. It’s here somewh-  _ there _ . Yes. Excellent.”

She stared at the box. She slowed her breathing. She didn’t look away from it until her seventh breath. “Right! Put it in the box. Then post the box. Then send it.”

“That is a good plan.” Ratal hoped he was helping. She didn’t seem to hear him. She disappeared from his line of sight. With the door open he could see his guess of the place was spot-on. It was a proper lab. It looked like a storm had passed through it, and by the looks of it, the storm was now quite frazzled and tired. Papers were tacked to every surface. Old maps, peculiar sketches and torn pages were tethered to desks and walls by means of nails directly into the paper. There were tools, some bought, some crafted from tape and mutilated flatware. The acidic smoke he smelled rose from the largest desk in the room. There sat a dish and lightening arced out of it, as if trying to escape. There was a half-finished potato pie sitting on a chair. Ratal was surprised this woman was alive.

“ **Got it!** ” she shouted. Ratal nearly jumped out of his sandals when she burst past the open door, slid on socks past the door frame, and then popped her head and arm through the slowly closing opening. It was the same box, dented on one corner, and hastily wrapped in six different ribbons of varying decorations. The posting details was written on the widest ribbon of pale blue. The postage was stuck onto the short end of the box. “I did it.” 

He offered up the clipboard. She stuck her second arm out of the house to sign the paperwork. He accepted the parcel with both hands, inspected it to ensure all parameters were met (technically, they were) and then placed it into his mailbag. He closed the clipboard and put it aside onto his back. 

“Thank you for using the Hylian Postal service, we will deliver this package right away.” Ratal bowed to her and turned heel back down the heel. He was relieved to leave the scientist’s hovel behind. He worried about her, but she did seem happy in her life. He prayed to Nayru above that she got some sleep. 

It was a long jog back to the Hyrule Castle.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The people of the merchant block were still on edge as the kids passed by. They were wary. Perhaps it was because they felt the children looking back at them. Perhaps it was like when a parent knows their child has caused trouble,  _ but not what kind _ just yet. It was a similar stare, a similar searching of the face. It was like seeing a person, knowing you have met them, and not placing  _ where from _ . Eko-Gannon watched them, wondering what sort of Gerudo they were. They stared back at the red Zora, wondering why he was so divisive to see. 

“Welcome back.” The Mixer Merchant lounged along the length of his blanket. He looked remarkably comfortable, until they noticed his stiff shoulder. “The space you claimed has been empty all this time. Really is a waste.”

“Paperwork got tied up.” Maple let go of Gannon’s hand to fold her arms. “We’re trying to get it untangled.” 

The merchant laughed. “Your first mistake was showing it to an official, greenhorn. Welp, can’t be fixed. Being that you haven’t been arrested, I’ll take it that the rumours are true.”

“Assume what you want.” Maple shrugged. “Can you help us clean this up or not?”

“What’s in it for me?”

Maple felt the rupees in her pocket. She would still rather trade services. Only problem was that she had no idea what he wanted. She stared at him with her mouth a bit open for too long.

“Gonna have to be quicker, missy.” He  _ tsk _ ’d. He shook his head. “See, you’re in a bad spot with me. I already know too much about you kids.”

“You don’t know anything about us.” Maple huffed. 

“Calling my bluff, are we?”

“We didn’t tell you anything.”

“Don’t have to.” He laid back on his rug. “Your little Zora friend already  _ looks _ like the Prince. Now, obviously no one’s sayin’ anything, but silence speaks just as loud, sweetie. Found it odd that you kids know anything that would get the Gerudo to sing, too. Then there’s you- a witch would never waste her time on anyone who wasn’t able to pay her properly. I don’t know what your game is, Zora, but clearly you’re someone to know.”

Gannon stared blankly back at Mr. Mixer. He didn’t know what the merchant expected him to say. With no clear phrase to an upper hand, he instead said nothing. Maple looked at the frozen Gannon, and then back to the merchant.

“That’s seriously racist.”

The merchant blinked. He double-took. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean, just because he’s got red scales doesn’t mean he’s related to  _ every  _ red Zora. I mean… even I know that.” Maple slouched her posture in light disgust. “And we witches  _ do _ have some concept of family. We may not be blood, but he’s still my brother. Maybe I’m glad I don’t know what to trade with you. Come on, Eko.”

Maple put out her hand. Gannon took it absently. Maple led him away from the blanket. They could hear the merchant chuckle behind them. “Well played, girl. See you later, your majesty.”

Gannon felt his heart leap into his throat, but Maple made sure they kept walking. She later said that there was no guarantee that Mr. Mixer even knew anything. She later said that they could just as easily find new leads toward this Mystery Plot Owner. Maybe Prince Sidon had found something, Gannon suggested. 

They knew better. 

  
  


Over supper, they were forthright about the events of the day. The Zora Royals shared their concerns, but handled it much better. Princess Mipha rested her head on her hands. “Well, you didn’t confirm any of the information. The added benefit is that many will laugh him out of the market if he talks now. If he’s anyone worth his salt he’ll get proof, first.” 

“Am I really that obvious?” Gannon rest his head on the platform. It was uncomfortable. “What’s even the point of a disguise if everyone is going to see right through it?”

“Well, it’s not everyone.” Sidon rubbed Gannon’s back. “It’s just one merchant that you sang in front of. It’s not proof. It’s a very popular hymn. Many know it just by being near the Gerudo. He likely knows a verse or two, himself.” 

Gannon groaned into the table. This did not help him finish his dinner. Sidon ate with one hand and rubbed Gannon’s tiny back with the other. For a child he was tense. It wasn’t exactly a surprise. Even Zelda had been this way. No, ‘been’ was the wrong word. The Prince believed that none of the bearers had any clue how to relax. He added that to the list of things that he ought to teach his ‘nephew’. 

Maple wasn’t looking much better. With Gannon’s head down she felt unseen, disguised. She caught herself touching her throat. She shoved her hand back into her lap. Mipha shared a knowing look with her brother. 

“Maple,” her voice was like lily pads drifting over a pond, “may I ask a favour of you?”

The girl looked up, not sure if this was going to be a chore or an unexplained command. “O-okay?”

“You studied a great deal with your Grandmother, yes?”

“Yes, your highness. She wants to take the shop after her.”

“I have a fresh shipment of herbs in from neighboring regions, and they all need to be sorted and put away. I’m terribly sorry that it’s dull work, but I could really use the help of someone who knows a radish leaf from poison ivy.” 

“That only happened  _ once _ .” Sidon protested. It was a lie, it had happened many times, but the statement got Maple to chuckle. There was even a snort from Gannon. 

“I would be happy to help.” Maple shoved some food in her mouth. She found herself looking forward to the chore. Perhaps because it was familiar, or because Mipha was a much more gentle person, but the girl felt.. Ah,  _ safe _ . 

After the meal was finished, the girls departed to tackle the task. Sidon sat with Gannon. The servants had taken the leftovers and the settings and yet Gannon had still not moved. Sidon picked him up and pulled him into his lap. 

“Talk to me.”

Gannon rest his head on the Prince’s chest. He was too short to be over the Zora’s heart, but he could hear it clearly. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

“You need to sleep.”

Gannon didn’t want to say that he was afraid. 

“How about this.” Sidon leaned so that he could look into Gannon’s face. “You can breathe water as a Zora, yes? Why don’t you stay with me tonight? I sleep on the softest silt. I assure you, you’ll be asking for one at the castle.”

Gannon afforded a chuckle. He would be surrounded by water. He wouldn’t be alone. It dawned on him that Maple would be a good distance away, with the person who could help her most. Sidon watched all these thoughts sink in. 

“You okay?”

Gannon nodded. Then he shook his head. “I… I will be?”

Sidon nodded. “Good answer. Why don’t you get ready for bed? I have to see Impa for a bit, and then I’ll come join you. How about that?”

Gannon nodded. Sidon set the boy on his feet and stood to his own. Gannon stretched and yawned. “Uncle Sidon?”

“That’s me.”

“When you get back, can you tell me about the Fire Festival?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It would be a pleasure, you’re majesty.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Maple’s idea of a medical facility was a messy one- order hidden in the chaos. Mipha’s arrangement felt alien and detached. It didn’t even  _ look _ like the rest of the level. There was no water pouring from the walls, no guards in the halls. There was plenty of chaos to be had, but it was entirely contained within the people who never stopped moving. Maple found herself following the princess only half a step behind. 

“Where’s the water?” Maple looked up at the Princess. “What’s going on?”

“Some diseases are transmitted through water.” Mipha spoke softly so that her words did not travel. “To keep the sick from spreading, we do not have the water ornaments here. Airborne diseases are harder to control, but so far we have found some herbs that filter the air.”

“Ferns.” Maple glanced into the room. “And… tiny trees?”

“Bonsai Trees!” Mipha beamed with excitement. “They’re wonderful. They clean the air like their grand counterparts, but they also provide a natural activity for the residents here. Some have really taken to making wonderful works of art with their Filter-Friends. Furthermore, we have found the spells that encourage even waterflow work well with them.”

“So… all the people here are sick, right?”

“Many are sick, many are injured, many are lost.”

“Why not just give them a potion and cure them?”

Mipha’s tone fell to somber. “For those with simple solutions, we provide them. Sadly, there are many conditions where a potion does not soothe them. This is not a capture facility, or a witch’s hut. This is a facility that focuses on research on the mortal condition.”

Maple followed Mipha in quiet to the storage room. Her thoughts dove through all the things she had absorbed in the past few weeks. She thought about medicine in general, it was something that was always going to part of her life. She thought about how different her Grandmother had handled medicine from how her father did. Even the way they administered it had been different. This place felt like an awkward fusion of two polar opposite philosophies. She thought about how everyone expected her to follow in their footsteps, somehow. While her grandmother had held medicine as a golden solution to which all flocked, her father had fled to pursue the weakened and the wounded on his own rupee. Here, with Mipha, there was searching and gathering all in one.

_ Do you want to be a medic, like your father? _

_ You’ll be a good witch, one day. _

_ He makes things better; that’s what he does. _

_ A witch would never waste time on anyone who wasn’t able to pay her properly. _

_ Many are sick, many are injured, many are lost. _

“What did you mean by ‘many are lost’?” Maple blinked back to the present. She and Mipha were not alone in the storage room, which was more like a wide hall of containers. Boxes of every shape and size sat in stacks. Mipha opened the boxes with a manicured claw. “Do you teach here, too?”

“Not that sort of lost.” Mipha handed Maple a box cutter and pointed her to a shipment. Maple turned the cutter over in her hands and set to work. This felt so familiar, from all the days she would do with with her Grandmother. Mipha started perusing the containers to match her herbs. “Not all injuries are of the body. Some are of the mind and the spirit. They are harder to see, sometimes, but not always harder to treat.”

“Oh,” Maple laughed. “You mean  _ sick in the head _ . That’s just an expression, Princess. Herbs can’t help that.”

The girl didn’t see Mipha’s sudden change in posture. She identified the leaves in her box. There were three types of related herbs all bundled in one. Whoever had packed them had either been hasty, or uninformed. Maple separated the bundles and kept each bunch between different fingers. She stood up to ask where the herbs belonged.

The princess stood rigid, her eyes melancholy. It was a scolding, but soft. “Callous perspectives like that are how sick people stay sick, Maple. Be wary who’s mentality you repeat.”

Her eyes fell. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know.” Mipha looked at her hand. The girl certainly had an eye for medicines. Most would not be able to see the differences in the leaves like she did. “That is why it is important to catch them and find meaning in our actions, instead of the thoughts of others. Three rows down, Maple, you’ll find that family.”

The young witch shuffled down the corridor and stood on her toes to put the herbs away. The evening filled itself with short questions and directional answers.  _ I’m not sure what this is, can you look? I found the family this belongs to, but there’s no space for this particular plant. This container is full. Pass me another box? _

This left space for the mind to churn. Could the sickness of the mind really be cured? What even counted as a curable mind? What part of the person was sick, and what part of them was just an asshole? As her brain wandered, she found herself touching her throat again. 

She caught herself. She put her hands back to work, but her train of thought took a sharp turn off the rails. Gannon was sick. Gannon had hurt her because he wasn’t well, he was tormented and plagued. He had burned her, a symptom flaring up, and now she found herself second-guessing her own experience, her own relationships…

It was contagious, just like every other sick. Maple had to double-check her herbs to make sure she was putting them away properly. Her thoughts kept her detached from her environment and she had to keep refocusing to stay in the storage room. She touched her neck more. She didn’t stop herself- she needed to think it through.

Mipha didn’t interrupt her. Sometimes a fever just needs to burn itself out. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mental Health is something I do take seriously. It's become one of the major themes of this work, alongside assumed responsibility and broken families. I had this chapter read for sensitivity for that reason. If, however, you feel that connotations of the work take a harmful stance on any of these issues, please talk to me about it. While I want to work with more raw and living characters, I do not want to cause harm. 
> 
> Thank you.


End file.
